Dirty Little Secret
by JustAudrey07
Summary: The Pureblood Greengrass family has a dirty little secret. Her name is Astoria. Canon compliant with a twist. Rated M for some smut and dark situations.
1. She Came Out Through The Bathroom Window

She Came Out Through the Bathroom Window

_October 23, 2000_

As Draco Malfoy leaned against the elaborate cobblestone fireplace, turning his head away from the idle chatter filling the farce of a party, he began to ponder whether or not he had taken some serious missteps in his life. From as far back as he could remember he had been groomed for greatness. The only son of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy, he had been set to receive not only his paternal inheritance, but the spoils from the Black family as well, as his mother's family had all either died before procreating, been thrown into prison for life, or had been cast aside as Pureblood traitors. The Malfoy wealth and prominence alone had once been one of the most revered in all of Wizarding England, and as a young child Draco's prospects were great. He simply had to ease through Hogwarts with his genetically insured Malfoy savvy, remain on top of the social ladder, and develop his managerial skills before his combined parents' wealth would leave him the most powerful Wizard in the Isles.

But then Harry happened. Perfect Potter and his insufferable entourage had altered Draco's life into ways unimaginable.

"Ow!" Draco gasped, as he was shocked out of his contemplation by a sharp jab in the ribs. He looked down to see the filthy, twisted smile of little Tobias Flint, holding a pointed toy wand up towards Draco's torso.

"Get out of here, Toby!" Draco demanded, raising his arm in a threatening backhand motion.

"I don't have to listen to you," the five year old stated defiantly. "Father says that you're as lousy in real life as you are at Seeking."

"Well, did Father also tell you he used to fuck Hippogriffs before he found his way over to your mother?" Draco inquired shrewdly, siphoning only a nuance of pleasure away from the traumatized look young Flint held upon his face.

The boy ran off into the crowd of the party, no doubt to that hideous horse faced mother of his to retell of his explicit imagery. Draco wished he didn't have to care. Marcus had always been an idiot, and Draco was able to manipulate the brute six years his senior when he was only eleven. But things were different now. Flint had married well financially, and was now the head of one of the top broom manufacturing companies in the world. And Draco was… well, nothing.

Secretly and realistically, Draco knew it could all be much, much worse than it was. Between his mother's sacrificial heroics during the Battle of Hogwarts and that impertinent scar-head witnessing what Draco believed to be one of the weaker moments of his life, the Malfoys (much to their distain) had been given a light sentence on Potter's bequest. His father had been sent back to a Dementor free Azkaban for a year, coupled with another year of house arrest which had just recently expired. Draco was sentenced to his own year of house arrest, with a slew of community service hours he had to complete within the next ten months.

And, to top it all off, they were fined. Heavily. The once seemingly infinite amount of Malfoy money had been reduced to a very tangible amount. They still had money, as a fraction of near infinity is still a bloody lot, but none the less it was an immense hit.

The only saving grace Draco could see out of the whole mess was that the Ministry had left his mother out of it. She already had to suffer the indignities of a disgraced husband and son, he was at least grateful it was left at that.

But the Malfoy name seemed to be irreparably tarnished. Sure they had managed to come out of the war with their family intact and a fair amount of money still safely stowed in Gringotts, statistics that many of their colleagues could not boast. But they were seen as traitors from both sides, untrustworthy scum that had managed to wheedle their way between the cracks, supported by that wretched lover of Mudbloods Potter.

All of which could be excused with the right amount of money. An amount the safe at Gringotts was terribly distant from. It was in a Slytherin's nature to be self-preserving above all other things, and the Malfoys had done nothing that the other families chattering lazily around the room wouldn't have done. The Malfoys just weren't as lucky.

Some families, like Flint and his horrific wife, had managed to stay out of the war. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had no interest in recruiting worthless people like them, and Flint was too afraid to step out. He therefore found himself in the lucky position to benefit from the fall of families like the Malfoys, who had put nearly all their eggs in the Dark Lord's basket, and he shot to the top of the social strata.

Then there were families like his old crony Goyle. Goyle had lost almost everything, including his father and best friend, through the war. His family had been very involved in You-Know-Who's reign, and without a sponsor like Potter at his side, he and the left of his holdings were mercilessly harangued. All that remained of Goyle was his large, nearly empty manor and his title as a Pureblood.

Yet, even he was held higher in Slytherin Society than Malfoy. He had lost everything, sure, but he hadn't gone so low as to accept help from Potter. Goyle had fought to the end, while the Malfoys were blamed for allotting the Dark Lord's destruction. Goyle could make or marry into money to regain status, while Draco would need a miracle to ever even approach his once held lofty position.

Despite all of this however, Draco and his family were still expected to attend Pureblood events like this one. It was a remnant of the old age, back when Pureblood families boasted their superiority freely, and could snub even the richest of wizards with a drop of Muggle blood in their veins. Now days these events were strictly prohibited by the Ministry, and all such gatherings were carefully watched. But there were, of course, ways around such things. Families would find a cause to celebrate any menial thing, and then only invite the ancient Pureblood families. There was no way an upstanding Ministry would deny a man a chance to celebrate a wedding, birthday, anniversary, or, in this particular case, a baby shower.

Estrid Flint clomped around her enormous living room, her rounded belly taking a firm shape on her otherwise flabby body. How either of the Flints could stand to shag the other was beyond Draco, but with a second child clearly on the way he supposed they were able to shut their eyes and bare it.

"Draco!" his father's icy voice called from across the room. "Come wish Mrs. Flint congratulations." Draco rolled his eyes before pushing himself off the wall and heading towards where his parents stood. Five years ago Lucius Malfoy wouldn't have given a damn about sucking up to such a person, but the Malfoy's social position was only secure by their blood purity, ancient reputation, and the small amount of wealth they possessed. An amount Lucius falsified by continuing to buy his family the best robes for such outings as these.

This particular issue was what appeared to be the final nail in Draco's proverbial coffin. While his father was in Azkaban, Draco had been left in charge of the family finances. He had successfully paid off the massive fine, on time, by selling off undevelopable tracks of land that were in prime real estate locations for a high price, and was very frugal about dipping into any actual cash. When such land ran out, he decided to forgo the cash and keep the most productive aspects of their estate, such as the arable farm land and their real estate businesses that continued to bring in money. A year after the war the Malfoy holdings were extremely limited, but those that remained were productive and dependable, and the family was receiving a comparatively smaller yet continuously steady income.

When his father had returned from prison to start his house arrest he was furious. He had reprimanded Draco for selling off land and assets that had been Malfoy heirlooms for centuries. Draco bit his tongue as Lucius accused him of ruining the family business. Lucius took control back of the finances, and put money in high-yield, high-risk investments like he used to, spending in less than a month the savings Draco had accumulated over the year. Draco had to watch silently as his inheritance was plundered on luxurious frivolities so the Malfoys could claim to still live in splendor, all the while their home life continued to be dreadful wreck.

His mother didn't seem to care so much about the money, not that she'd be able to do much about it if she did, and was more concerned about her family. She had nearly lost both her son and husband more times then she cared to count, and would be happy just to have the two of them home so she could take care of them; a situation which neither Malfoy male sought out. The moment Lucius returned, Draco pulled away. With his new found freedom and the knowledge that as long as his father was alive his family had no chance of regaining its glory, Draco spent his time crawling into cheap pubs and even cheaper women, only coming home sporadically on his mother's request for a few weeks before leaving once again.

Now that his father was done with his house arrest, Lucius had picked up the nasty habit of trailing his son around to ensure he remained home. Lucius was anxious to present a strong family front and Draco stumbling around England with his dick out was not what the father had in mind.

So, at twenty years old, Draco was as forced a member to these ridiculous parties as was Toby. Only Draco couldn't pass the time entertaining himself by inflicting injury on the guests, as much as he'd like to.

"We're so happy for you, Estrid," his mother crooned, a smile that never reached her eyes filling her face. "Another baby boy! Marcus must be so proud."

"Oh, he is," Estrid responded in a nasally voice. "A second son is always a good back up just in case something goes wrong with Toby. You never do know how the young ones will turn out, despite a mother's best intentions."

Narcissa's eyes flashed at the off handed comment, a feeling of hot indignation radiating out of her poised stance. Draco calmly touched the back of her arm, trying to signal it was okay and to remind her to remain calm. Lucius simply chuckled.

"One day we'll get them back," Lucius muttered to his family, though Draco knew it was actually self-reassurance that caused the verbal smirk. "One day they'll all see."

Draco remained quiet, sighing while giving his mother a reassuring squeeze before returning his hands to his pockets. He shut out the small minded conversations that his father dragged him around to, giving only a quick and curt greeting to whichever socially superior couple Lucius was sucking up to before scanning the room for a more interesting distraction to pass the night.

There were a handful of girls his age standing coyly around their family groups. Some of them were pretty enough to catch his interest, and he toyed with the idea of picking one out to take back to the townhouse outside Diagon Alley. Despite his murky school past and his social fall from grace, Draco was still quiet apt at hunting down and conquering the girls he desired, both of Pure and Mixed blood. But the girls at this party were all either married or close to it, with their significant others keeping a sharp eye on their women. Normally such an obstacle just played into the fun, but at the moment he didn't have the energy to be sly.

As Draco moved with his family across the room their attention was stolen as the door to the parlor swung open, giving way to a lately arriving family. Upon recognition, Lucius' smirk grew.

"Just who does Helios think he is, trying to pass off _that_ at a Pureblood affair?" Lucius sneered.

"Lucius," Narcissa hushed warningly. "He'll hear you."

Draco severely doubted it. Helios Greengrass was nearing his seventies, and all the hair that once must have lain on his head seemed to have migrated into his ears and nose throughout the years. In his rare glimpses of the Trading and Transportation mogul, Draco also noticed that Helios didn't really seem to care about anything, including his unfortunately all female family. Greengrass Trading was so well run and so ancient in its practices that Helios was able to spend his days drinking brandy and ignoring his insufferable wife that clung to his obese arm.

It wasn't unheard of for there to be a considerable age gap between a man and woman in a Pureblood marriage, indeed Draco's grandfather had been a good decade older than his grandmother, but the Greengrass pairing was an outright spectacle. It seemed as if Helios only realized well into his life that he had yet to produce a legitimate heir, and arranged to marry his business partner's seventeen year old daughter, Phoebe Parkinson, at the age of 46.

Draco assumed Mrs. Greengrass had at one point been somewhat beautiful. She had fair skin and features, sensual and supple curves despite barring two children, soft curly auburn hair and vibrant green eyes as wide as a doe. But over two decades of marriage to a man thirty years her senior had aged her well past her actual 38.

That, and a life spent keeping the most scandalous of Pureblood secrets.

Even now she looked painfully anxious, despite that they were probably the most powerful family in the room, and frantically fussed with the sleeves of her daughters' dresses.

A smirk filled his face when he recognized his old classmate Daphne. She was just as unfortunate looking as always. She had inherited her father's stout and round frame. Her face was large, ruddy, and coupled with an absurdly small aristocratic nose. Her large green eyes were dull, and gave her the appearance of being lost and confused, which, if he remembered correctly, she often was. Her hair was more orange than auburn, and fell down in sharp layers, reminding Draco more of shaved carrot peelings than curls. She was stuffed into a pink lace gown with girlish ruffles. Over all, she looked like an over dressed sausage. It was quite a shame. Had she even been remotely attractive, or at least somewhat interesting, she could have had her pick of husbands. Maybe in these hard times she'd still be able to find a suitable partner, but they'd have to be desperate.

Unfortunately for the Greengrasses, Daphne was the least of their worries when it came to daughters.

Astoria stood next to her sister, pale lips pressed thin as she tried to escape the over barring grasp of her mother. It had been two years since Draco had last seen her, and another two years since he had really paid any attention, as he had been a bit preoccupied his sixth and seventh year to ogle at school girls two years below him. However, there was no mistaking her.

She was tall and thin, with sharp angled curves piercing out of her dress. Her jaw was strong and square, a feature that prevented her from being classically pretty. Her skin was sallow colored, and he recalled in school it had often been covered with acne, leading her to have her oily black hair cover her pockmarked face. Now cleared, her hair fell down in feathered layers to her bony shoulders.

Despite these oddities, there was something quite enticing about the girl, like a mystery one itched to figure out. She too had green eyes like her mother and sister, but there was nothing soft about them. They were viciously intense, sparked with curt intelligence, and were reminiscent of a wild cat forced into captivity. Her long, thick black eyebrows were furrowed into a constant look of impatience, leaving no matter who approached her with the impression that you weren't worth talking to. Her haughty attitude and perfected sneer characterized her into the epitome of a rich, Slytherin Pureblood woman, except for one thing.

She wasn't.

It didn't take a genius to line the family up together and see something was off about her. While Daphne was an unfortunate blend of the Greengrasses' worst physical characteristics, Astoria carried features completely absent from the rest of her family. She had her mother's slender nose and eyes, but the similarities ended there.

There were of course plenty of unclaimed, illegitimate children of Pureblood paternity. Marriages attained for social status left an unwritten rule of acceptable male philandering which occasionally manifested bastard kids. These mother's were often paid off with a hefty sum, and ancient laws protected that only legitimate heirs had intestate claims over inheritance. What almost never happened was a lust child born from a Pureblood mother. Not that women didn't have their own affairs, but they had their ways of taking care of certain leading clues of infidelity.

It was painfully clear to anyone who carried to look at such things (i.e. most of the bored Pureblood community) that Astoria was not Helios' offspring, in either physical appearance or manner. Yet, for some reason, she was still passed off as such by both mother _and _"father". It would have been perfectly acceptable for Helios to have thrown both Phoebe and her child on to the street without a second thought; in fact it was expected. Yet Helios continued life as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened, giving Astoria the same amount of attention and affection as he did Phoebe and Daphne, which was to say, hardly any. Many believed the slow moving man was too preoccupied in his self inflected haze to even notice, and that his inexplicable reasoning for keeping both wife and false daughter was simply because he was too dull witted to figure out she was not his. It explained the constant uptightness of his wife, and why she always seemed to flinch when her youngest daughter made any kind of movement, as though any minute now the secret might be exposed.

It _was_ a tremendous scandal, yet one that always remained publicly quiet. Helios Greengrass was who everyone used in selling their goods and moving their property. He was an integral part of their community. He also knew the dark secrets and buried skeletons of everyone in the social circle. When the rumors spread that Helios was rearing a child not his own, the wild fire was kept alive only through whispers. The Slytherins had just spent countless hours and Galleons "proving" to the Ministry of their innocence in the first Dark Lord trials, and they all feared outing the man's secret least he bring proof out against their Dark activities. So they all played along, accepting the girl as one of their own, all the while passively denouncing her status. For although only a select few knew of her true paternity, it was certain to all her biological father wasn't any of the Purebloods.

"It's unbelievable the farce has been allowed to continue this long," Lucius hissed to his family icily. "It makes a mockery of everything we stand for."

"I don't see you jumping to out the thing," Draco muttered under his breath, tired of his father's hypocrisy. Through connection and social status, the Malfoys were even more privy to the insights of the scandal. Narcissa Malfoy had been a close, childhood friend of Acacia Avery, who in turn married Richard Parkinson, Phoebe's older brother. Acacia had rushed to the Malfoy Manor after witnessing her sister-in-law's mental breakdown in which she revealed the effects of her extramarital affair. It was believed that outside the family, the Malfoys were the only ones who knew the whole story. Yet Lucius remained silent on the matter, both then and now, having far more to lose in the revilement than Helios did.

"Ah, Estrid!" Mrs. Greengrass announced, flouncing over to the burgeoning hostess. "You look absolutely radiant!"

"Why thank you, Phoebe," Mrs. Flint replied, welcoming any positive appearance compliment, despite how forced it sounded. Mr. Greengrass gave the woman a grunt before disappearing off to the bar.

"Girls," Mrs. Greengrass said shrilly, rounding to her 20 and 18 year old daughters as if they were toddlers. "Give Mrs. Flint your regards."

"It's very exciting!" Daphne announced, looking at the full stomach in wonder. "I just love babies!"

Astoria gave out an indignant snort, wrapping her long arms across her relatively flat chest.

"Do you have something to say, Astoria?" Estrid asked haughtily. The young woman narrowed her eyes, ignoring her mother's futile grasps at stopping her.

"I find the whole situation utterly insane," Astoria stated in a cold and raspy voice. "I suppose I can understand the desire to pass your genes on to the next generation, but why degrade yourself by having another? You're just prolonging your years of bondage to a snot nosed brat who'll end up taking any shred of identity you have away from you. I mean, did you just forget to take The Potion?"

"Astoria!" Mrs. Greengrass moaned helplessly.

"I'll have you know, _Miss_ Greengrass, that Marcus and I very much wanted another child. Perhaps you'll understand whenever you settle down and have a family of your own!" Estrid fumed.

"I'd rather go wandless against a Dementor than subjugate myself to being the vessel of some idiot's sperm and pump out his runts, ruining both my figure and my life. Now where's the bar? Some of us are actually still allowed to drink." Astoria didn't bother waiting for the hostess to respond, and pushed rudely past the party towards the dark corner bar.

The women went into an instant uproar, Mrs. Greengrass eagerly trying to apologize for her daughter's rudeness while the rest acted as though they were viciously scandalized. Draco however couldn't help but laugh. It was refreshing to see someone speak so bluntly, and it gave the chickens something else to squawk about.

"What a wretched brat," Lucius spat coldly, speaking only to his son as his wife had been encompassed by the chattering mob. "Like she has anything to worry about. No self-respecting Pureblood would ever reproduce with the likes of _her_."

Draco remained silent and simply rolled his eyes back over to the secluded area of the fireplace. He was tired of hearing his father talk about Blood Status and heirs. It was the only thing he ever brought up in conversation. Yes Draco wanted his family to regain its status, probably more than his father did as he abhorred the thought of reaching his prime in poverty. But just proclaiming themselves to be Pureblooded wouldn't make that happen. His father needed to do something, and fast, lest they end up having to move next to the Weasleys.

He felt a cold, sharp trickle pour through his veins when he once again intuitively felt what his father's plan might be. Shuddering at the prospect, he headed over to the open bar as an excuse to leave his parents' side.

He grabbed his double firewhiskey on the rocks and returned back to the fireplace. He assumed it was with a Pureblood heir his father planned on hoisting the Malfoys out of oblivion. For the last few months Lucius had been pulling Draco away from pubs and pushing him towards Parkinson Park, encouraging a union between the two families. The idea of actually marrying Pansy, tying his life to her, made him nauseous.

Draco had to hold in a scathing breath as he watched his father make his was over to his secluded sanctity. Only with the customary knowledge that the group would soon split off into smaller pairings in a few minutes was he able to keep from snapping towards the unwelcomed visit.

"You are to stay out here," Lucius commanded as he joined his son's side under the pretext of warming his hands. "I am adequate representation for the family. We don't need to look pretentious."

"Right, pretentious," Draco snorted snidely, shifting his gaze to the open balcony terrace and away from his father.

"Don't you dare give any of that cheek to me Draco Abraxas. You can join the rest of the men when you have something to show for yourself," his father curtly scolded.

"And how do you expect me to have anything to show for my life when you spend all our money and keep me from doing anything?" Draco demanded, rounding on his father and staring him straight in his matching grey eyes.

"Enough!" Lucius hissed, grabbing his walking stick firmly and waving it in front of Draco's face. "Do as I say and stay put!"

Any retort Draco may have liked to make was drowned out by a ringing of a bell, signaling the departure of the mixed parties. The women and their children began to flood out into a side parlor on the left, while the men retired to Marcus' library as was the tradition. Draco was left alone to stare into the green and black flames, and watched them flick and roar violently as the doors were shut.

"I didn't want to do to the ruddy meeting anyways," he cursed.

This was partly true. He knew the real reason his father didn't want him to go with him. Draco probably knew more about the financial problems of the family than Lucius did. He certainly had a much grimmer outlook than his father. Lucius worried his son would either correct an error the patriarch had made when regaling the family's "prosperity", or simply hark on their financial woes.

Draco snorted into the fireplace, leaving the empty parlor to sulk more thoroughly out on the balcony.

He of course wouldn't be so thick as to ruin whatever false build up Lucius had managed to lay over the past few months he had been free. His family, his reputation, his traditions were all he had. Merlin knows he was a supreme liar and manipulator, and could probably charm the men in that room more subtly than his blatant father. But he wouldn't get the chance to prove that. As long as he lived under Lucius' roof, he had to play by his rules.

Sighing, he tried to focus on vast scenery before him. An orange harvest moon dominated the black sky, casting an eerie illumination over the ancient skeletal trees that dotted the landscape. A chilly breeze whistled through his blonde locks causing a shiver to run down his spine. He was left feeling desperately alone.

That is until a loud crack and a stream of curses shook him out of his daze. Startled, he turned over the railing to see where the ruckus was stemming from.

"Bloody, useless window!" a dark, raspy voice clamored from his left. To Draco's surprise he saw Astoria, half hanging out the bathroom window, seated backwards on the ledge as she tried to hoist up the rickety pane. After a few more attempts she managed to get the sill to lodge properly, and she pulled herself out gracefully, settling her brown pumps on the ledge. Draco stood hidden in the shadows, slightly shocked and rather amused as he watched her shimmy fearlessly across the thin carvings of the manor's outer walls, scaling an impressive length a good four stories up in the air. It was due to this unique distraction that Draco didn't immediately realize her destination was the very balcony he stood upon.

He took a step back as she stumbled forward, taking a misstep due to the impracticality of her footwear for such an athletic venture. She quickly gained her feet however, and took a moment to dust off her dress before pushing her inky hair off her face.

"Oh," she said bluntly upon espying him for the first time. "What are you doing here?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her demanding tone.

"I could ask you the same thing," he responded coolly. She smirked at him.

"I'm escaping, obviously. I was thinking to myself if I had to hear one more sappy baby story I would throw myself out the loo window, when it hit me that that actually wasn't such a bad idea," she explained hurriedly, pushing past Draco and focusing intently on a high hanging potted plant well above their heads.

"Finding _Pureblood_ company a bit dull, are we, Greengrass?" Draco inquired haughtily. An angry and understanding flash flittered across her fierce eyes, and Draco had to keep himself from taking a step back upon feeling their intensity.

"At least I was _invited_ into someone's company," she sneered in reply, before rounding her attention back to the planter. A humorless smirk spread across his face as he watched her ignoring him. She wore a rather outdated, conservative dress. It was a noncommittal light blue, with lace sheen covering the shoulder straps and flowing down to short sleeves, while the skirt layered into ruffles ending just above her knobby knees. A silk ribbon tied itself just below her chest, accentuating her lack of womanly curves. Draco sneered. He hated small breasts. It made a waste of already useless girls.

Astoria backed out from under the planter slowly, still staring at it contemplatively. Curiosity getting the better of him, he found himself looking right along with her. As far as he could tell, it was only a pot of rather neglected begonias.

"What are you looking at?" Draco demanded, annoyed at her antics.

"Why did they have to go and raise it higher?" she asked of no one, grabbing a patio chair so as to reach the plant. Even with outstretched hands she still came up short.

"What the bloody hell are you doing?" he asked again. Astoria exhaled irately, crossing her arms and tapping her foot in agitation.

"I am in desperate need of a cigarette," she announced firmly. "But the prat owners of this shabby house have foiled my attempts at gaining such."

Draco furrowed his brow, beginning to think that she was as mad as she was abrasive.

"Why would a hanging plant keep you from a cig?" Draco asked.

"It's not the plant, it's my mother," she said angrily, stomping her foot once again.

"The plant is your mother?" Draco repeated, stepping back a few feet from the barmy woman in front of him.

"No, you idiot!" she snapped, glaring at him with ire before returning her gaze upwards. "My mother is keeping me from cigarettes. She won't allow me with a purse and pats me down before we go to these retched functions so I can't smoke. It's reduced me into having to hide cigs in every house we go to so I can retain some form of sanity."

"You're putting me on," Draco stated, earning him another dirty look.

"Do I seem like the kind of girl who is fond of jokes?" she asked. Draco figured she had a point.

"So your cigarettes are in the planter, and it's out of your reach. Why don't you just Summon them down?"

"Because my lovely mother confiscates our wands before we come to such wonderful meetings," she explained sarcastically. This took Draco by surprise. It was an ancient custom to leave unmarried girls of a certain age wandless at such gatherings. It was believed to be more ladylike. It also made it much easier for men to get a hold of them without struggle. But it was a very outdated practice, one his grandmother's generation fought, and it was fairly unheard of to see it today.

"Mummy trying to make her girls traditional and easy prey, huh?" Draco stated coyly. Astoria shot him another look, before setting her attention on him fully.

"Get them for me," she ordered, pointing her finger at the wand tucked in his jacket pocket.

"Because you've been so pleasant, eh?" Draco asked, enjoying watching the coarse woman struggle in front of him. She bit her lip as though to keep in a scream, but quickly swallowed her outburst.

"Do it," she continued easily, "or else I'll tell my cousin you were out here sulking by yourself. I'm sure Pansy would love to take it upon herself to put an active end to your lonesome solitude."

Draco raised another eyebrow. Who was this girl who talked to him, a Malfoy, with such disrespect? Yet, he couldn't also help but be impressed with her threat. It seemed as though she knew as much about his hated secrets as he did hers.

"_Accio _cigarettes," he charmed lazily, holding out his arm so the half empty back zoomed into his hands. She snatched them away quickly, spilling one of the long rolls out into her palm. She popped it into to her mouth, happily taking in the mere smell of tobacco. Her green eyes shot back open, staring at Draco expectantly. Draco already had a smirk waiting for her, knowing what she would need next. He held out his own hand expectantly.

Astoria sighed and rolled her eyes, giving in to the hopelessness of any alternative, and passed him one of her left over fags. Draco placed it between his lips gingerly before lighting it with his wand. Astoria stood impatiently as he took a long drag, blowing his smoke over in her direction. She held her own cigarette out to be lit. Enjoying this place of power, though still keeping in mind just who he was dealing with, he put his wand back into his pocket. Rage flashed across her face, and Draco imagined the only thing stopping her from attacking was deciding how exactly she wanted to hit him. Taking this time into his hands, he held the cigarette out in front of his face slightly, and bent over towards her.

Scowling, Astoria put her still unlit cig between her pale lips, and bent forward to drag a light off his cherry. She was forced to push her face just inches away from his own. He was able to see a look of over haughty non impression, which masked what he believed to be her real antithesis feelings. She pulled in a lung full of air and blew it out proficiently into the night. The tips of her lips curved up in to a sly smile.

"Now what do we say?" Draco asked, closing the distance between them and trying his best to tower over her tall frame. Her smirk grew at his failed attempt of intimidation, and she stood coolly and silently in front of him.

"Come now, Mutt. That mother of yours must have instilled some form of mannerisms into you. What do you say when a Pureblood gentlemen does you a favor?" he whispered hoarsely, stroking her soft cheek with the back of his hand. He expected her to pull away in terror or disgust, but instead she leaned in close to his chest and gently nuzzled her lips against his ear.

"You can take my thank you when you pry it from my cold, dead hands," she said softly, causing a sensual shiver to run down Draco's spine. His hands quickly found their way to her waist and pulled her in close to his body, locking her into a submissive stance with his unapologetic grip.

"That can be easily arranged," he murmured with a smirk, inching one of his gripping hands up her side, while the other slid around the back side of her waist to ensure his hold on her. Astoria's arms remained free, and hung loosely at her side instead of struggling. As his roaming hand made its way closer to her breast she took another lazy drag from her cigarette. She blew the smoke directly in his face, forcing him back a bit. When the smoke halted compromising his vision, he saw her intense, wild green eyes staring back at him fearlessly.

"I doubt it," she replied coolly to his whispered threat, and remained motionless in his hold. A stab of shame and anger flashed through his body and he let go of her repulsed. She smirked at his reaction, and leapt up gracefully on to the edge of the balcony, finishing her cigarette by flicking it out into the darkness. Draco was struck with the thought of how easy it would be to simply push her off the edge, especially as she was wandless and he probably had a good twenty pounds on her, despite being as lithe as he was. But as indignant as he felt about the occurrence, he couldn't help but stare at her long pallid legs that crossed sensually out of the folds of her dress.

"Come now," she stated matter-of-factly, "let us be grownups. Neither of us are in school anymore." She wiggled a new cigarette out in front of him expectantly.

"Some of us just barely," he responded through a cocked eyebrow, but he held his short ashing cigarette for her to siphon. She took in a deep drag, and then pulled another out of her pack to light a second for him as he finished off his first.

"So what _are_ you doing out here?" she inquired after he took his initial blow. "I figured you would be in the study, talking mindless repetitive shop with the rest of the blow holes."

Draco's face fell into an ugly grimace, and he leaned out against the balcony next to her, staring out into the sky.

"It wasn't worth my time to be around such utter nonsense," he stated firmly. Astoria let out a low hum in response to his brood, but pushed the subject no further.

"So you really have cigarettes hidden in all of Society's houses?" he inquired, turning his back to lean against the wall.

"Yes," she replied coolly. "The only hard part was finding a place where the House-Elves won't get to them." Draco responded in a half humored snort, and began pacing the balcony in fidgeting impatience.

"That's mental," he said in between paces. The girl merely shrugged.

"One must only do what one can," she proclaimed. Draco paused to look at her quizzically, but instead of resting his gaze on his face, he realized his angle gave him a rather marvelous view up her bunched up skirt, ending in the smallest flash of black lace fabric right between her legs.

"Indeed," he replied, keeping his eye line at the sight. Astoria simply continued to suck down her cig, rolling her eyes at his obviousness, but keeping her preferred pose.

"Astoria!" a high voice called from inside the manner. "Astoria, where are you?"

"Bugger," she cursed quickly, finishing off her drag before ashing it out hurriedly. "I can never get a bloody break from that woman."

She hopped off the stone wall, and began to make her way into the parlor. Her hand paused on the patio door however, and she turned back around to face Draco. She smirked as she eyed him leaning casually against the spot where she once sat, and bit her lip in humor.

"Thanks for the light and the stimulating conversation," she said, folding her arms across her chest.

"Thanks for the cig and the stimulation," he responded in kind. She let out a muted laugh before heading into the parlor with a swish of her dress.

"Oh, Draco," she called suddenly, as she walked backwards out of the room. "If your father continues to give you too much shite, there should still be a pack of menthols behind that ugly coat of arms in your living room."

Draco raised both eyebrows in surprise as he realized his own home had been invaded by her, and watched as she moved swiftly out of the parlor and disappeared into the corridor.

He grinned as he was left alone on the balcony, glad that the evening wasn't a total loss. He finished off the rest of his cigarette, replaying in amusement what had just happened. Greengrass may be a bastard mutt with a condescending gait and a flat chest, but he had to hand it to her, she sure had a commanding and impressive presence. Her ass wasn't too bad to look at either.

_**(A/N: I must be crazy to be starting another long story when I'm still not done with my Percy story **__**and**__** during finals. However, this plot line actually came to me in a dream about 6 months ago and I haven't been able to get it out of my head. Normally I am a stickler for cannon, but I built up Astoria in this particular way and just can't change her. I do promise though that everything will follow the proper cannon storyline and this is not an AU fic. Hope you enjoyed it, and I plan on posting another chapter in a week or two.)**_


	2. Misery

Misery

Of all the spaces in the fifty plus room manor, the cold marble bathroom on the far corner of the fourth floor was by far Astoria's favorite. For one thing, it was the most simple place in the house. The sleek floor was adorned only with a mahogany colored shag rug, and a few matching towels hung unpretentiously on the wall. There were no fancy chandeliers, no assuming art, and absolutely no ostentatious flower arrangements. Astoria despised grandiose adornments.

It was the only room in Greengrass Gables that purely served its purpose as a bathroom, and wasn't dressed up as anything else. The tub was spacious and the faucet wide so as to fill the void in ample time. The room itself was rather snug, lending itself perfectly into a makeshift sauna when one ran the water billowing hot, which she often did. It was in a remote area of the house that none of the other family members traveled to, leaving her in a much desired isolation. She would have been perfectly content to curl up in a blanket and sleep inside the bathtub had her mother not had a conniption the one time she actually mentioned it. So instead, Astoria settled for the next best thing, taking daily and multiple baths.

It was the only way for Astoria to get her mother to leave her alone. Ever since she could remember, her mother scolded Astoria for the state of her skin. As a baby it chafed easily and broke out into rashes. Around the time puberty set in she seemed to excrete an excess amount of grease, one which no amount of scrubbing seemed to get rid of. To make matters worse, she was allergic to Mandrakes, which left hardly any magical remedy available to her, unless she wanted to go about looking like Eloise Midgen. That, and her hair that if left untreated became so oily it left stains on the couch pillows, caused Phoebe Greengrass to banish her youngest daughter to the washroom where she was to scrub and wash vigilantly. At first Astoria had hated it. Sure she didn't like the pain of a nastily placed zit nor was she comfortable with the feeling of grease on her nose, but her mother pushed it to a vain extreme.

"No man wants to marry a girl whose face is covered in pockmarks!" her mother had explained to her at age nine.

But over the years she had learned to use the banishment for her own benefit, and treasured the times spent lounging in the tub, submerged in hot water while wrapped up in whatever book she pleased. To her, the washroom symbolized the small amount of freedom she had in her otherwise overbearing life.

At school of course she was unable to bathe as frequently as she could at home, but even a morning and nightly shower couldn't stop her hair from going lank with oil a few hours later, or her face to shine with grease. Tired of returning home between every term to have her mother harp on her dirty appearance, Astoria decided to do in her third year what she did best. Take matters into her own hands.

She made her own wash products. It was surprisingly easy to come up with her own potions. She had a natural instinct towards ingredients, and understood the magical secrets held within herbs and animal parts better than she ever understood people. In just a few weeks she had created a soap that cleared her skin with daily use. By the time she took her OWLs she could go a day without showering and her hair would still stay feather soft. Upon graduation, she had created enough products to forgo needing any other soap for her or her clothes at all.

But all that was besides the point. Now she bathed because she wanted to.

"Astoria!" a clear voice echoed through the room. Astoria rolled her eyes. Her mother had the whole manor enchanted so she could call her children without having to search its six grand floors. Astoria grinned as she submerged her hair and ears in her bath. What her mother hadn't thought of was tweaking her voice to carry through the sound barrier of water. That was the other perfect thing about baths. It was the one place in the house where she didn't have to listen to her mother.

All Astoria wanted was to be left alone. She didn't want to have to put on the airs of aristocracy when she didn't feel like it. She didn't want to wear clothes she thought were ugly just because they were in fashion. She didn't give a damn about gossip. She certainly didn't want to have to compromise or downplay her intelligence just so others weren't intimidated by her. And she sure as hell wasn't going to waste her life aiming for the misery of marriage and motherhood.

She couldn't understand the women in her family's social circle. They all seemed so remorse and unfulfilled with their life as housewives, having their own desires pushed back for their husbands and children. Yet they all insisted upon it, and spent their daughters' childhoods pushing them in the same direction, perpetuating a never ending cycle of bleakness and unhappiness.

Well, it wouldn't happen to _her._ She had been the top of her class since she was a First Year, making top marks in her OWLs and NEWTs. She would have been a prefect and probably Head Girl if she had given a damn about such things. Astoria had a nasty talent of pissing the right kind of people off in those areas. In fact, Astoria seemed to just piss most people off period.

Despite behavioral setbacks, it was needless to say she had worked hard during school, and she wasn't going to waste the fruits of her labor straightening some man's tie as he went off to work at _his_ job, leaving her at home to tend to a brood of filthy infants. No, she would have her own life, with no one else calling the shots but her.

All she had to do was get the hell out of this house.

She sighed as she slumped further into the water, submerging herself completely. That was what she had been trying to do for the last four months, ever since she graduated Hogwarts. Some of the girls in her NEWT level classes, especially those in other Houses, had talked about internships at St. Mungos, the Ministry, the Prophet, and a dozen other places of employment which took them from the confines of their home. She had looked over a pamphlet on the hospital, having enjoyed the sciences more than any other subject, and toyed with the idea of being a Healer. But she couldn't see it with in herself to want to mend anyone, as she was perfectly convinced the world would be a much better place with fewer people in it, and could more than see herself letting a "victim" of their own foolishness perish in front of her without her aid. Still, she never gave up the idea of experimental potions, and was determined one day for her inventions to span further than specific beauty products.

She stayed under the water as long as she could, letting her lungs scream and burst for air before pushing herself up and gasping for breath. Heart racing frantically, she reached out for her body wash and began to scrub down her thin and ashen body. Her nostrils filled with the rich smell of citrus and the crisp aroma of healthy plants. In a stroke of genius her forth year she had added lemon zest to her concoction to balance out the base of her potion. She rather liked the zesty scent of her skin, thinking it was much more refreshing than the absurd vanilla, berry, and flower mix of perfume so many girls tried to pass off.

Head still slightly light from her self-suffocation and ready to indulge herself in her _other_ daily routine, she started lathering her body with her wash, slowly and thoroughly. She sank lower into the tub, using one of her spindly legs to turn on more scorching hot water. The room quickly filled with billowing steam, causing her to pant as her head began to spin from the stringent humidity. She very thoroughly lead her slick, soapy fingers down her frame, her right hand stopping to make lazy circles around her taut breast, while the other hand slid further down her torso. Her back arched of its own derision, causing her smooth stomach to peak out of the water as it waited to be caressed. The room all the while filled with more steam, sending Astoria into a panting delirium. She traced a gentle pattern around her navel, causing butterflies to tighten her ab muscles. Her index finger slid along the concave of her jutting hips and her body arched forward further. Resting on her hand on her course mound, she slid her body forward to the running tap, positioning herself expertly below the faucet. She let the warm water trickle down her legs, the drops licking the spot where her thighs met. She moaned in self satisfaction as she finally moved her fingers downwards, slipping inside herself a few times before assisting the water in its job, moving her middle finger in a master tempo. Breathing turned into a ragged battle as both the temperature and the stimulation became too much, and Astoria began to slip away into an oblivion of ecstasy. She could feel her walls start to tremble, signaling the start of her built up orgasm. She let out a happy groan as she worked faster towards this end.

"ASTORIA!"

Startled, Astoria slipped forward, causing her body to double over into the water. She choked and sputtered as she stood up, gasping desperately for air as her soaked black locks covered her face.

"WHAT?" she demanded of the empty room, pushing back her hair fiercely.

"Come to the Drawing Room this instant!" her mother demanded frantically. "It's of upmost importance."

"I doubt it," Astoria muttered under her breath, ringing out her soaked mane. Her body was still alert, the area between her legs still almost painfully swollen. She could hardly fathom the upmost disdain she harbored for her mother at this particular moment, interrupting her most private and intimate of activities. Whatever it was that was so urgent better be worth it.

She dried off her body thoroughly, kicking on her grey slacks and black cotton long-sleeved shirt. She snagged her wand to finish airing out her hair, but left her dressing up at that, forgoing the sparse makeup she occasionally wore and leaving her slip on shoes behind. She made her way barefoot through the corridor and down the flights of stairs to the first floor Drawing Room.

She entered through the Great Hall which opened up the majority of the house, generations of accumulated art, tables and chairs lining its stone walls. The Drawing Room itself was rather large, with ancient yet well kept furniture adding to the décor. Usually her mother spent her days lounging on one of the well stuffed couches, ordering around the House-Elves in-between burying herself in her dirty romance novels she recovered as classic literature. Instead, Astoria found her on the far end of the room, her elegant head poking through the curtained French Doors that lead off to a smaller corridor. The hallway traveled mainly to her father's home office.

"What?" Astoria demanded curtly, taking pleasure at her mother's startled gasp. The older women shushed her daughter before closing the door quietly. She turned around in a flutter, her long emerald gown flowing out behind her. Her rushed and apprehensive look morphed into one of distaste upon espying her youngest daughter. It was a look Astoria was quite familiar with.

"Honestly, 'Tori, could you look more like a homeless person?" her mother scoffed. Astoria's face fell into disbelief.

"I'm sorry, I didn't flip through the latest "Hobo Fashion" magazine, I didn't realize designer slacks and a new top qualified one into such an image," Astoria spat.

"Your feet, love, your feet," her mother pointed out hurriedly, straitening up the tea set on the coffee table absentmindedly. "And you could at least try to dress more feminine and colorful, 'Tori darling."

"Don't call me 'Tori', that's not my name," Astoria said firmly, initiating an argument two decades running. "If you wanted to call me that you should have said so on the birth certificate." Astoria hated the shorting of her name, believing her proper nomenclature to be one of the only nice things her mother ever gave her. At least her first name, anyways.

"Fine, _Astoria,_ go get dressed properly. Mr. Garber is here," her mother rushed.

"Why should I give a damn if the bloody lawyer is here?" Astoria demanded, standing firmly in her place.

"Keep it down!" her mother hissed. "And watch that horrific mouth of yours. Bluebonnet!"

A loud crack filled the air as the young House-Elf Apparated in front of the tea set.

"Yes, Mistress?" the little elf squeaked, her bright blue eyes as round as Galleons.

"Fetch Astoria's new slippers, and that gorgeous burgundy pea coat she had some sense to buy. At least we can cover what she's wearing now," her mother ordered.

"You don't need to…" but the elf quickly Disapparated before she could get another word in. Astoria took to an old wooden chair in a huff, sitting down forcefully with her arms crossed.

"Why do I care if Garber is here?" Astoria inquired again, jittering her foot.

"Don't be thick!" her mother scolded. "He could be changing the will again!"

Astoria rolled her eyes. Her mother lived in constant fear over what that document said, and her father refused to privy her to any information. Astoria's whole life had been placed around a few stupid sheets of paper, as her mother perpetually placed her own consternations on her children.

"_Stand up straight and don't embarrass your father_," Phoebe had often warned the pair of Greengrass daughters. "_You never know what he might do if you fall out of favor with him_."

Astoria had been left with a pretty good idea planted in her head of what exactly could happen: disinheritance, family excommunication, a social fall worse than death. With no sons to carry on the family business, Helios could easily pass on his empire to a colleague or distant family member, leaving his much younger, female family to fend for themselves after his increasingly likely timely death.

Phoebe's only hope was to make her daughters as model Pureblood as possible, marry them off to high standing Pureblood men to which her husband would pass along his dynasty, or at least have a visible and viable male grandchild to which he could promise the business to.

But that certainly wasn't Astoria's plan, and she had spent the past eighteen years making this clear.

"You're a loony," Astoria replied solidly, keeping her crossed legged stance even when Bluebonnet returned with her shoes and tried placing them on her feet.

"Don't be such a spoiled brat!" her mother shot obsessively. "You have no idea how good you have it here. You've been born into a wealthy home which your father managed to keep upstanding during the war. You should consider yourself lucky!"

"Lucky?" Astoria shouted. "I'm a prisoner! If you had it your way I'd be stuck in this house until you could transfer me out to be the slave of some other family, all under the pretense of a holy union."

"Be quiet!" her mother commanded, shooting a terrified look at the closed French doors. "You will stop spewing such nonsense and fall in line this instant, young lady! I've had enough of your impertinence. The dangers of disinheritance and disgrace are very real, _especially for you_, and running around like a shameless fool will be your end."

"You would know all about running around like a shameless fool, wouldn't you, Mother?" Astoria replied, standing up wildly.

"What did you just say?" her mother asked in whispered abhorrence.

"Just that you wouldn't be having these problems, _especially with me_, if you had kept your drunken legs shut nineteen years ago! Then you wouldn't have to worry about what _your_ husband thought of me or your slag…"

Astoria was silenced with a sharp slap across the face. She kept her feet solidly, despite the blow coming by complete surprise, and stood there touching her cheek gingerly. Her mother fumed in front of her, holding out her hand flat as though she may strike again. Her green eyes however held a look of upmost fear.

"That is enough!" her mother hissed. "You will not speak of such wretched things in my house again, do you understand me?"

Astoria looked at the raving and hypocritical woman in front of her, saw her posed for what she must have felt would be a physical counter attack from her abrasive daughter. Astoria saw this, and she smiled.

"You know what, Mother, you are absolutely right," Astoria laughed. "That is enough." Astoria spun on her heel and headed out to the Great Hall, chuckling to herself along the way, mother and House-Elf following in pursuit.

"Where do you think you're going?" her mother demanded, an edge of trepidation still outlining her voice. Astoria paused on the great staircase before responding.

"As far away from here as possible. I plan on leaving and never coming back," she stated simply, before continuing her jaunt up the stairs.

"WHAT!?!" she heard her mother explode, though Astoria had already rounded to the next flight leading to her chambers.

"You can't be serious!" her mother crowed, as she jogged after her. "I forbid it!"

"I'm eighteen, there is nothing you can do to stop me," Astoria retorted calmly as she made her way down the hall.

"We'll never support you in this! You have no money, no anything! No way to survive on your own!" her mother pointed out. Astoria paused before she turned off into her private corridor. She saw the look of victory flash across her mother's worried face as she watched her daughter contemplate this matter.

"True," Astoria said slowly, leading her mother on. "But then of course I could always just become a prostitute. I mean, that's basically what you've been preparing me for my whole life, isn't it? Selling myself off to the highest bidder?"

Astoria watched with intense satisfaction as her mother's face fell into shattered disillusionment. A smirk twisted across her features as her mother grasped for words.

"Or maybe," Astoria continued, stepping back into her own corridor and leaving her mother in the main hallway. "Maybe I can do like everyone else, get a job, and make my own money instead of living off someone else's."

"And how do you suppose to do that, you wretched little girl?" her mother asked through angry tears.

"You always under estimated me," Astoria said through a shake of her head. She grabbed her wand and tapped lazily against the bricks of the corridor before making her way to her bedroom chambers.

"Astoria, come back…!" but her mother was blocked, an invisible wall sprung across the corridor. Astoria grinned humorlessly as her mother tried in vain to use her own magic to counteract her own. Phoebe continued to yell, threaten and cry, but it all fell upon deaf ears. Astoria had finally had enough. She knew there was no way she could live in this house any longer, locked away in punishment for her mother's mistake. She was tired of pretending to live in fear about a fact that had nothing yet everything to do with her. She didn't give a damn about what her mother, Helios, or the rest of the pretentious upper class society thought. She was done with the lot of them, and would find away to survive on her own.

Astoria burst through her chamber door with a steady determination. The large trunk she had used to pack her belongings for school sat readily available at the foot of her bed. With a swish of her wand her favorite and most sensible shoes and clothing flew inside neatly. Her collection of books on potions, rare plants, theory, and other pertaining subjects were placed down carefully as she jealously guarded them as her prized possessions. Pausing to think at least half a step further, she turned to her bureau and began to rifle through the elegantly carved wooden box that stored her jewelry. Large and gaudy stones stared back at her, products of countless birthdays and Christmases living with relatives who didn't understand a single thing about her. Most of these adornments had been hastily stashed in the container without even contemplating wearing them. Now, they could be readily sold to keep her on her feet before she could find some way to feed herself.

She had just finished tossing the clunky object in her trunk when she heard movement at her door. Astoria snapped her head up, figuring her mother had finally managed to break through her powerful shield. Instead, she saw her sister, Daphne, standing shyly at her door, clad in a high fashioned light pink dress that fit her figure dreadfully, munching absent mindedly on a stalk of celery. Astoria's glare immediately softened.

"What's going on?" Daphne asked in her soft, girlish voice. "Mother is going positively bonkers. She keeps shouting about how you can't leave… you're not leaving, are you, Astoria?"

Astoria paused, stroking her long arm as tried to figure what to say. Daphne was one of the only reasons she had stayed as long as she had. The two couldn't possibly be more different, both in looks and in personality. Daphne had always been naturally chubby, and despite their mother's almost drastic attempts at trying to get her to lose weight she maintained the hefty girth of her father. Phoebe was as relentless on Daphne's appearance as she was Astoria's, only Daphne took it all to heart. She submissively let her mother dress and torture her like a doll. She took in all the drabble their mother preached to them, and worked diligently to satisfy Phoebe's ridiculous desires, always coming up short due to her natural physical appearance. What was worse was Daphne could never come to fight against her mother even if she wanted to. She was meek in her attitude and rather slow in wits.

Despite all of this however, Astoria was very fond of her sister and she had spent a good chunk of her life defending her against their mother and schoolmates. Although she was two years younger, she often helped Daphne in her school work, serving the dual purpose of ensuring her sister did not fall behind while she herself was pushed ahead. Her sister's timid demeanor always tapped into a source of infinite patience in Astoria inaccessible to anyone else. She loved her sister dearly, and the thought of leaving her alone to fend against their mad mother was nearly enough to make her want to stay.

But despite a strong sense of sisterly affection, Astoria knew she had to go. Even if it meant leaving behind the one person in the world she truly cared about, she had to do what was right for her. It was simply programmed into her nature, and as much as she may hate seeing the look on Daphne's face, she had to stay true to herself.

"I am, Daphne. I just can't stay here any longer." As was feared, Daphne's face began to tremble, and shaky tears began to fall down her large cheeks.

"But… but why? Mother could be nicer if you just let her; and what about our poor father?" Daphne inquired mournfully. Astoria hesitated again. The idea of her mother relenting to any of her desires was laughable. As for Helios…

It had been a strange paradigm to grow up in. As a child Astoria had first heard the whispered rumors of her true paternity through the other children in her social circle, mainly lead by her insufferable cousin Pansy. Through school she had not only uncovered the truth of the rumors but discovered the identity of her biological father through strange means. In one particularly intense argument during the holidays her Second Year she confronted her mother with her findings. Since then her mother had treated Astoria like a fragile explosive, one that at any moment may go off and destroy her carefully constructed life.

By some un-seeable twist, it seemed as though Helios was the only man in their station who did not notice that one of the girls he raised bared no resemblance to him. He treated her no different than he did Daphne, bestowing equal attention and involvement in their lives, despite how small that really was. Astoria couldn't really see how her mother had made it so Helios remained unprivy to the situation, but as did most, she wrote it off to self imposed ignorance and his habitualness to sip off a pint of brandy.

It also seemed as though Daphne bore not a clue as to Astoria's particular situation. If she did, she certainly wouldn't have asked the question she just had. Not wanting to upset her sister any further, Astoria merely sighed.

"I just have to, Daphne. I can never have the life I want if I'm stuck here."

Daphne nodded her head in defeat and scuttled like a lost puppy to the foot of Astoria's bed, gently reorganizing the haphazard objects in the trunk. A pang of guilt filtered through her. She would definitely miss her older sister. Astoria turned to her desk drawer and pulled out a bag of candy that lay in a hidden secret compartment. Their mother had banned the both of them from eating sweets, as it did a number on Astoria's skin and on Daphne's weight. None the less the two had often bonded over the smuggling of candy, laughing happily over their small victories of happiness. Astoria pulled out the last liquorish wand, one of their favorites, and split it in half for them to share. Daphne looked at it sadly before abandoning her celery and taking her piece. As Astoria settled into her own share, she was struck with the urge to tell her sister just how much she loved her. Yet Astoria was unable to ever really show such affection, having never really been given the opportunity to do such. Instead she remained quiet, hoping her last token of childhood nostalgia said enough.

"Mistress Astoria?" a squeaky voice called from the door way. The sisters turned their attention to the small elf that stood before them. Bluebonnet had served the Greengrass family from as far back as Astoria could remember, focused primarily on the needs and attentions of the girls. Though just a trifling house servant, Bluebonnet had been a rather staple character in Astoria's life. Bluebonnet always cleaned up after Astoria had a particularly nasty fit, and never uttered a word about her activities unless explicitly asked by Mrs. Greengrass. Even than Astoria had a feeling the elf held back. Not that she held the elf in any particular high regard, but she was struck with the thought that she would miss her too. It was hard not to grow fond of one of the only creatures in the house who actually smiled at her when they interacted.

Only now the elf looked rather solemn, her ears drooped pathetically as she waited to be noticed.

"Yes?" Astoria asked, curtly out of habit but without menace.

"The Master wants to see you," Bluebonnet explained softly. Astoria was rather taken aback.

"Father?" Daphne replied, seemingly just as shocked as her sister. The elf nodded in affirmation, causing the two girls took look at each other in amazement. They were never summoned by the family patriarch, as he had made it clear that it was the mother's job to rear them specifically. Although she had lived in the manor her whole life she had only ever stood in the doorway to his office to call him to dinner or to inform him one of his business partners had dropped by to see him. Reading this as a bad sign for her cause, Astoria abandoned her packing to head out the door obediently, pausing only to hand Bluebonnet an Acid Pop.

Helios Slughorn Greengrass was a very large man, in both clout and stature. Although many who talked to him considered him to be completely apathetic, it was undeniable that he was at least a successful businessman. He headed a company that traded goods all over the world, had a string of good luck with investments, and occupied a special place of neutrality amongst most conflicts, as he was normally privy to hidden secrets on either side of a dispute. To Astoria he was a shadowy figure, a man who was seen only at meal times and even then he was normally hidden behind a paper. He was by no means cruel, at least not in the sense of abuse. He made sure his family had all of their fiscal needs met and that they were secure in their safety. He just seemed as though he never had much to say to the three women who shared his name. None the less, Astoria felt a distant reverence for the man, and walked towards his office quietly.

"You called for me, Father?" Astoria asked, eyeing her fuming mother suspiciously as she stood behind Helios' massive desk. Helios himself sat in a large leather office chair, his rounded gut causing him to sit back a considerable distance from the edge of his table. Icy blue eyes stared at Astoria from under bushy grey eyebrows as though summing her up for the first time. She remained in the doorway.

"Come in Astoria, and sit down," he said, pointing to the small chair in front of his desk. Astoria did so without speaking, though her mind reeled to maintain its steadfast determination. She was quite certain her stubbornness outweighed her light veneration for the man, but was worried about being stranded in unfamiliar territory. She sat quietly why her parents stared at her, her mother doing so quiet seethingly.

"So, your mother tells me you're thinking about moving out." He stated this as though she had made comment about wanting to join the Gobstones Club. Astoria worked on keeping her temper down.

"That's right. I'm very nearly packed," she replied coldly. Her mother's eyes nearly popped out of her head, while her husband maintained calm.

"I see. And why exactly do you feel the need to leave the comforts of your home for the destitution of the real world?" he asked simply.

"I have plans which can never come to fruition if I remain here," she stated firmly. _Especially around her._

"Mmmhmm, and what exactly does an eighteen year old girl plan to do with her life, Knutless and on her own?"

"I…I want to be a Potions Master," she explained after a moment of hesitation. "I want to do experiments, push the bounds of known magic, all while making life on my own. I _don't_ want to simply wait around here hoping to get married."

"You thankless child! After all your father and I have done for you, and you plan on just picking up and leaving…"

"Thank you, Phoebe," Helios interrupted, holding up a hand to silence his wife. "Are you certain that this is what you want?"

"I'm never uncertain of what I want," she replied both foolishly and truthfully. Helios let out a small chuckle.

"I admire your determination, Astoria. However, your mother was quite right in calling my attention to this matter. It is unacceptable for a woman of your station to simply run off, severing ties and shaming your family. This, I cannot allow…"

"I don't care what you _allow_," Astoria sneered defiantly. "It's my life and I will not waste it…" But she too was cut off by the man's hand gesture. Astoria found herself left uncharacteristically submissive.

"I cannot allow you to simply run off," he repeated firmly, "but if you do crave this independence, perhaps we can work out an arrangement."

"An arrangement?" echoed both mother and daughter, both caught off guard at the suggestion. Helios chuckled again. Astoria had never in her life heard him laugh so much.

"If you wish to be a potion maker or inventor, you would of course need your own space and area to study. Such a space however, you do not posses, nor do you have enough in your collection to sell off and support yourself for a prolonged period of time. Hence the need for an arrangement. I will procure such a place for you to live, while you find a part time job to support the rest of your needs, giving you ample time to do your research in your off time."

"WHAT!?!" her mother yelled fiercely, staring at her husband with a look of munity. Astoria however was shocked into near silence.

"Are you… are you serious?" Astoria asked, staring at the man in disbelief.

"You always made excellent marks in your classes, you seem confident enough in your abilities. I would be happy to support you in your ventures."

"Helios, you must be joking!" her mother explained. "She'll ruin herself if she leaves home! She'll cast herself away from society, taking down not only herself but her sister as well! You can't allow her childhood fantasies to wreck this family's standing!"

"I know. That's why Astoria, upon accepting this arrangement, also will agree to go to _all_ the social events you ask of her, with nothing excusing her except for an untimely demise," he explained simply.

"I knew this was too good to be true," Astoria grumbled. "I can't stand the few events she drags me to now. How do you expect me to go to all the ludicrous gatherings she goes to?"

"You have two choices in leaving this house," Helios stated. "You can either accept this gracious offer and the guidelines I have set up for it, _or_ I can betroth you to the most desperate man I can find. You'll see I am quite within my rights as father in our customs to do so."

"Why give her a choice at all?" Phoebe demanded desperately, speaking while her daughter gave a look of upmost repulsion at the latter alternative. "You can just force her to stay here!"

"Because I am old," he told his wife in exasperation. "I am tired of hearing the two of you bicker, and have neither the energy nor inclination to chase after her when she decides to run away. This way you both get what you want, and I can finally have some peace. This is hardly a scandalous proposition, and is far more conservative than what most men give their sons. So, young lady, what do you choose?"

Astoria ran over the offer given to her. She could finally be on her way to doing what she wanted. Set up in a flat, she would only need to work for food and leisure items, both of which were things she didn't readily consume. She could have secure privacy, leaving hardly any worries but those of her interests. That was better than she could have hoped for.

But she also wanted to get away from the extinguishing presence of the upper class society, and the influence of her mother. Phoebe would still have her daughter in her power, pushing her upon society and effectively selling her to a man who would buy her. Of course, just because she was forced to attend these games, didn't necessarily mean she had to play.

"Alright," she agreed slowly, feeling as though she were trading a bit of her soul for her dreams. "I accept."


	3. Birthday

Birthday

The first snow flurries of the season danced whimsically in the wind, prolonging their short lived lives before hitting the ground and melting into slush. Soon the vast grounds would be blanketed in a pure white cover like it did every year, causing the already magnificent landscape to appear all the more enchanting. The very thought of such a beautiful scene made Draco nauseous.

He was so tired of the manor and its extensive layout, and the inevitable changing of the seasons just subtly reminded him of how much time he had spent at his childhood home. It was becoming increasingly difficult for him to elude his father's domineering grasp, especially as the holidays loomed ever nearer and "family" became more "important". Imprisoned once again in his own home, this time due to parental overbearing rather than court order, Draco started slipping back into a grey depression. He spent most of his time sleeping, or locked up in the family's immense library. He was ashamed to say that between his year of house arrested and his current situation, he had read enough books to possibly rival that detestable Mudblood Granger.

Another roll of sickness crashed through him as he accidently compared himself to that bushy haired know-it-all, and tried to shake the thought off by switching the shoulder that carried his broom. Flying was the only activity that gave him any kind of solace, but lately he hardly had the heart for it. After only a quarter of an hour he tired of the activity that he used to enjoy so much, and landed deep within the grounds, hoping to get lost. Unfortunately, his feet carried him back to the manor without thinking, knowing the landscape better than anyone.

Soon, the large manor came into view, causing Draco to sneer instinctively. In a matter of minutes he'd be back inside, fair game to Lucius' haranguing and a witness to his mother's sorrow.

It wasn't that Draco didn't care for his parents. He certainly loved his mother. As a child he was never left with any doubt that he was his mother's pride and joy. She doted upon him unconditionally, spending more time with her son than did most women of their social standings. Draco of course lavished in the attention, and was more than happy to spend his time with her, making her laugh and having her sing to him. But his father foresaw such intense affection between mother and son as detrimental to his upbringing. He remembered as a young boy hearing his parents row over him, his father insisting that further coddling would turn him into a soft and feminine man. Draco remembered his mother crying a lot about such things, unable to ignore or hold back her affection for a willing son. At age nine the rowing between his parents was so bad that Draco, fearing for his mother's health, pulled away from her and started to take up his father's bidding. The action seemed to work, as the fights stopped and Lucius became much easier to live with, but Draco couldn't help but see the defeat grow in his mother's eyes as they continued to grow apart through the years as she watched her happy son grow into a mold of her husband.

During the year of his house arrest, while his father was locked away in Azkaban, Draco and his mother had begun to reconnect. Narcissa had supported her son whole heartedly in the first year, ecstatic that her son was making the best of the situation and trying to pull the family out of financial ruin. She had been even happier that, as her son, Draco presented situations and ideas to his mother, asking for her advice. Lucius had never once approached her on such matters, insistent on keeping the traditional social spheres and she had been touched that Draco sought out her opinion. Although Draco hated being locked up, banished from the world in humiliation, it hadn't quite felt like the prison sentence he thought it would. His mother assured that he had plenty to do, and she acted like an advisory for the family business, going out to meetings with willing buyers as Draco was left to the confines of the manor. She was very good at striking deals, and always returned to the manor in a happy mode, satisfied with a job well done and helping out her son.

But all that changed the moment Lucius returned to the manor. The close partnership the two shared was replaced with once again simply being Mrs. Malfoy and Malfoy heir. His father left no doubt about who was in charge, and he made it clear that despite their dire straits, business was to be conducted as usual.

Lucius loved his family the same way he loved everything that he owned. If they did exactly what he said he could be a rather doting husband and father. Yet, if even threatened with a challenge he became merciless. It was a rather good trait for a business man, a rather ruddy one for a loved one.

Draco had a feeling his father didn't know how to handle having an adult son. It was Draco's duty to carry on the family responsibilities. This is something that Lucius had engrained in his son since birth. However, now that the time had come for Draco to take up that mantle, Lucius was reluctant to let go. The two rowed constantly, and though Lucius retained the upper hand as head of the household, he no longer had the authority to punish his son, leaving them at a bitter crossroad.

Draco drudged through the grounds, dragging his feet childishly to stall the inevitableness of going inside. It was cold and he had neglegted to put on his jacket, having not gotten back into the seasonable habit just yet. He was just about to move from the lush grass over to the long and narrow driveway when he heard the unmistakable squishing sound from underneath his favorite pair of boots, coupled with a rather distinct smell.

"I hate that bloody peacock!" he shouted, trying to scrape off the waste on the grass before continuing onward. The white bird squawked in reply from somewhere on the grounds. The accursed animal symbolized all the frivolity his father reveled in, trying to prove to the world of the Malfoys' continued wealth while depleting the non replenishing resources of what little money they had left. Draco didn't dare try to calculate how much longer they had until they were truly bankrupt at the rate his father was going to.

Sighing, Draco trudged through the doors of the manor which opened up upon recognizing a master. Deep down he felt desperate to do something, yet continued to feel powerless at doing so.

"Draco, is that you dear?" Draco heard his mother call from the conservatory. He stopped in his mindless progression and headed her direction.

"Yes, Mother," he replied peaking his head into the room to see her sitting primly on her favorite white couch. She was as beautiful as ever, yet her eyes continued to carry the burden of a troubled life.

"Are you ready for Pansy's party? It starts in half an hour," his mother reminded. Draco scowled.

"I'm not going to her ruddy party. I can't think of anything more tedious to waste my time with, and that includes sitting here and doing nothing," he stated firmly.

"Darling, come now," his mother urged, patting the wooden piano bench that sat next to her. Draco exhaled loudly and obediently took the seat. "Acacia is one of my oldest friends. And you and Pansy have such a history together. Think of everything she did for you when you were back that first year. You wouldn't miss out on her birthday just because you drifted apart a little, would you?"

Draco snorted softly at his mother's subtle understatements. True, Pansy had been one of the few people he saw consistently during his house arrest. She would visit a few times a week to bemoan Draco's misfortune, and then went about spewing trash talk and gossip about everyone else. She seemed to love the fact that she knew where he was at all times, and she seemed to think she was taking care of him. Draco suffered through her visits, knowing that with a few soft words she was always willing to go to bed with him. She was always a rather pretentious shag, moaning and screaming too loudly, usually doing nothing but laying on her back. Sometimes the fucking wasn't even worth having to be around her, but he indulged her talk of "their future" with noncommittal answers that kept her coming back.

Since he'd been reprieved of his punishments, Draco hardly ever saw her. There were far more entertaining ways to get laid with far less obnoxious women than Pansy. Despite his perpetual infidelity to her, however, Pansy still held her and Draco up to couple status. She seemed to think Draco was going through some wild phase, and that he proved his unbridled love for her by being the only woman he always went back to. This had a scary ring of truth to it. Although he found her continuously annoying, he had carried a sexual, semi-emotional relationship with her for the last six years. He couldn't really explain why he kept going to her. Partially out of habit, partially out of expectation. Both of his parents wanted him to marry her. The very thought made him sick.

"I don't know, Mother," he sighed, trying to come up with some excuse not to go. Despite the fact that he was a superb liar, he found it nearly impossible to trick his mother, both because he didn't have the heart to lie to her most times and that she saw right through him when he did.

"Why don't you play me a song on the piano? That always used to put you in a good mood, and then you'll feel more apt to going to the party," his mother suggested happily. She loved to hear her son play music.

"Mother, I doubt a concerto will make me anymore willing to be nice to Pansy," Draco said, rolling his eyes.

"No, you will be nice to Pansy because I order it."

Lucius Malfoy walked into the conservatory with a slick smile that didn't reach his icy eyes.

"Hello, dear," Narcissa said automatically, jumping up to place a kiss on her husband's cheek before taking his traveling cloak and walking stick.

"The Parkinsons mean a lot to this family, and I expect you to be on your best and most gentlemanly behavior," his father demanded.

"If they're so meaningful to us, why aren't you going?" Draco asked, a hint of juvenile whine garnishing his question.

"I have important business to attend to," Lucius said firmly, ending the line of questioning. Draco snorted. More like he had to act like he had business to attend. Most men of his supposed status didn't attend such trifling events as a young woman's birthday held in the middle of the day.

"Speaking of," Narcissa interjected, placing herself between the two Malfoy men's stares. "That Wilkinson man was here again asking for you. He seems to think you may be interested in investing in this invention he has. It's the third time he's come by and his idea is rather ingenious…"

"Absolutely not," Lucius stated, cutting her off with the raising of his gloved hand. "And how dare you suggest such a thing. Do you want to ruin this family's reputation? Wilkinson is a low class Mudblood who further soiled himself by marrying a Muggle woman. How stupid can you be, Narcissa?"

Draco watched his mother sit back down curtly, her already white complexion paling further.

"No, I have much bigger, more _proper_ plans for us. Stewart Miller is in town for some business prospects," his father explained. Draco perked his head up. The Millers were an old Pureblood family of whom the Malfoys had been friends with for centuries. A few generations ago they had moved to America to settle down on an enormous track of land in Texas, and were now one of the richest Wizarding families in the western hemisphere. Rhett was the present patriarch of the family, and although he was rather eccentric in taste and dress, was still a brilliant businessman. His father going into dealings with him could actually yield in favorable results.

"See, Cissy, even the boy can see the merits of this. Why don't you leave the business up to the men like it belongs?" Lucius asked harshly, before turning out of the room and into the depths of the house. Draco watched his mother clutch at her chest lightly while her eyes began to shimmer with tears. He was filled with the urge to wrap an arm around her, and assure her of all the good things she had done for the family. Indeed, if it weren't for her, Draco was sure both he and his father would be dead. He wanted to tell her how much he loved and valued her, and to promise her that he would find a way to make everything alright.

But he didn't. He wasn't sure if he was even capable of doing such a thing. Instead, he did the only thing he could. He spun around without a word and placed his fingers expertly on the grand piano, moving them proficiently in a grand melody.

"So, when did you want to leave?"

* * *

Astoria had never seen so much pink in her entire life. Every tree in Parkinson Park had been adorned with a light rose sash. Tents and tables were draped in shocking magenta covers, causing diaphanously pink rays to filter through. Even the house-elves were dressed in white and cherry scraps of rags as they carried around strawberry champagne on their little trays. Great bouquets of roses and pansies adorned every table, and flower petals rained from the enclaves of the tents, disappearing just inches before hitting the table.

"Oh, how lovely! Acacia sure out did herself this time!" Phoebe exclaimed.

"You're not kidding," Astoria muttered, thinking the scene looked hideous. Going to her cousin Pansy's birthday was not the sort of thing Astoria _ever_ wanted to do, let alone during the first week of living on her own. Astoria had just finished moving into the small yet private flat above Slug and Jiggers Apothecary in Diagon Alley. It was the perfect little place for her to live and work, with a fully stocked potion selection just below her feet. The wretched smell transcended upwards into her flat, causing her sparse possessions to smell like rotten eggs and bad cabbage, but there were ways around that. Everything was neatly unpacked and perfectly placed, and she had big plans for her future projects. However, her work was impeded by her mother's end of the bargain, and Astoria was dragged away at the first social event Phoebe could get an invite to.

Astoria vividly remembered these events from her childhood. Daphne always equated having a cousin her age as having an instant friend, and always prepared determinedly for their meetings. Astoria didn't have to collect many of her own birthdays to realize there was nothing friendly about her cousin. Every family event had left Daphne in tears as Pansy teased her about her weight and looks. Pansy had viewed Astoria as a little runt she could boss around to do her bidding, steal toys from, and place blame on any wrong doing she herself committed. That outlook changed the year the cousins realized that Astoria's closed fist could out do any feeble slaps or hair pulls Pansy could muster.

As all girls do when they reach a certain age, Pansy and Astoria's battle shifted from physical over to mental. As the years progressed, their mind terrorism escalated. Astoria was sharper and wittier than her cousin, but Pansy practiced much more often. Astoria's main goal was to just be left alone, while Pansy took a more offensive route.

Needless to say, once they entered school Astoria had managed to avoid her cousin's gatherings. Pansy hardly ever dared confronting Astoria at school, even with her brood of Slytherin friends, as Astoria could always win a verbal sparring match. Instead, Pansy discredited her cousin quietly, spreading subtle rumors and hints questioning her Purity, just in case those in the House didn't already wonder.

Now, through some twist of events, Astoria felt like she was back where she started, forced to attend Pansy's stupid parties and play nice. Well, she had to attend anyways.

"Astoria, go place Pansy's present on the table and come greet your cousin," her mother directed with a wave of her hand. Astoria rolled her eyes and marched over to the large table over flowing with gifts. She dumped it hard on the ground, grinning in satisfaction as the box smashed into other over decorated parcels, crashes and shatterings of different calibers stemming from the violent contact. She spun around happily, digging her hands into her over coat as she joined the rest of her family in the tent.

The second she stepped under the covering the temperature rose to a toasty degree. Pansy and her friends had all discarded their jackets on hanging pegs, and started showcasing their pink and white gowns to one another. Another self satisfying smile filled her face as she shrugged off her own coat, hanging it up herself rather than waiting for one of the house elves.

"Good heavens, Astoria!" her mother hissed, clutching her chest. She wore a short and sleeveless black dress, coupled with black leggings that ended just above her ankles and her cutting jet heels.

"Yes, Mother?" Astoria inquired, raising her thick black eyebrow.

"This is a pink and white party! How could you… you know the invitation said…" her mother fumbled.

"I'm here, I'm wearing a dress and pumps, what more do you want?" Astoria asked, shaking out her feathered hair and wrapping a dark shawl around her bare arms.

"Ah, my sister Phoebe, you're here!" Mrs. Parkinson's false high voice sang. "And my lovely nieces Daphne and…Astoria."

Astoria smirked as she watched her aunt's face waver, her forced delight stressed even further at the sight of her niece's dark attire to the sun dress party.

"Wow, Astoria," Pansy's sneering voice called out from behind her mother. She wore a pink satin gown that reminded Astoria of a second string ballerina. "You look positively morbid! Attending a funeral anytime soon?"

A flutter of laughter filled the tent as Pansy's cronies rallied behind their leader's joke.

"One can always fantasize," Astoria replied coolly, causing the high pitched giggles to cease. Pansy's pug like face fell into a grimace at the off handed comment.

"Ugh, come on. I'm ready to go open my gifts. I can't wait to get my hands on that diamond necklace I've been bugging Father about. He said it was too expensive but I told him I'd absolutely _die_ if I didn't have it…"

"Hopefully Uncle Richard won't disappoint and we'll have a funeral after all," Astoria muttered under her breath as she happily watched her cousin and her posse walked away. She turned on her heel to see her mother facing her with arms crossed.

"Well, would you look at that? Aggression to alienation in under a minute! A new personal record, I believe my work here is done." Astoria started to head out of the tent as fast as she could, preparing to Apparate home as quick as her wand could carry her, when her mother caught her expertly by the arm.

"Astoria Greengrass, so help me you will find one person at this party to talk nice to or I can promise you I will fill up your calendar with so many tea parties, art galas, and charity functions you won't have time to use the loo, let alone tinker with your chemistry sets!" her mother hissed into her ear while maintaining a perfectly cheerful expression. Astoria shot her mother the dirtiest look she could muster before ripping her arm out of her mother's grip. Quite used to the angry glare, Phoebe left her daughter behind to chat with her pug faced sister-in-law.

Astoria stuck her tongue out at her retreating mother until left completely alone in the welcoming tent. Huffing indignantly, she made her way out into the snow and into the solitude of the tree line.

* * *

"The Ministry sure knew what it was doing when they didn't throw me in jail," Draco muttered under his breath as he looked nervously behind his shoulder. "Leaving me with her was a much better punishment."

He had just spent the last hour standing by Pansy's side, her grip practically wearing through his pinstriped suit. She snogged him ruthlessly after opening every gift, in front of the whole party, as though he had given all of them to her himself. In all honesty he couldn't say which gift was from him. His mother had even forged his signature on the card. He managed to slip away after she had run into the house to see how her new dress robes looked, backing away from the doting group stealthily. He didn't know what excuse he could use to leave the event, even for so short a time. Pansy was bound to notice his absence eventually, even with the piles of presents to distract her. All he knew was he desperately needed a break from the excruciating woman. Besides, Pansy would undoubtedly lap up any halfcocked reasoning he threw her way if he complimented her right.

Disgusted with the situation, Draco walked through the grounds of Parkinson Park, weaving in and out of the ancient trees, sneering at the frilly adornments. He received a dreadful premonition of his inherited estate covered in such absurd frivolity. He shuddered deeply as he walked further into the grounds.

Hands pushed deep in his pockets he stared at the ground, kicking a rock or two as he dragged his feet angrily for the second time that afternoon. He went to push a rather spiky looking branch when he paused curiously. It wasn't a branch at all, but a very expensive looking pair of black heels, draped with black leggings. Draco furrowed his brow as he walked closer to investigate, when a shout rang from above, followed by a figure falling gracefully from the sky.

"Hey!"

Draco let out a yelp of surprise, grabbing his startled heart as the person landed in front of him. In shock, it took him a few moments to recognize his assailant.

"Shit, Greengrass!" Draco yelled. "You nearly scared the life out of me."

"Well, stay away from my shoes then," she replied. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to break in a pair of stilettos?"

"What the hell were you doing up in that tree, anyways?" he asked, his heart finally starting to beat normally. "You have a pack of cloves hidden up in a birds nest?"

"Very funny," she stated, rolling her long wand between her fingers. "But as you can see I no longer have to stoop to such ventures. This was my escape tree when I was little. It was the only place I could find to duck my cousin during forced sleepovers. I expect that's what _you're_ doing here. Escaping a sleepover."

"Something like that," he spat back, leaning against the grand girth of the tree. Finally calm, he managed to drink in the sight of the young woman in front of him. She looked far different than she had just a week before. Then she looked like a sallow faced porcelain doll in girlish clothes. Now she wore a tight black dress that showed off her sharp angled curves and ended quiet abruptly down her thighs. She no longer made him think about the anti-social school girl who faded so efficiently in the background during their adolescence. As she bent over to dust off her pointed heels, he found his thoughts to be of a quite adult nature indeed.

"So, that's what the kids are wearing to a formal pink and white party these days?" he inquired, not bothering to hide his lusty gaze.

"Well, you know me, always trying to fit in with the crowd," she retorted sarcastically, shaking a brown leaf out of her black sheet of hair.

"So I noticed. You always like to cause quite the scandal wherever you go," Draco stated, folding his arms lazily.

"Ugh, if my garb is the most interesting topic of conversation at this party than I'm glad I spent it up a tree," she sneered.

"Don't flatter yourself. You were a distant second behind all the girls guessing exactly how many karats of gold and diamonds were in Pansy's necklace," he explained with a grin, enjoying the horrific look that filtered across her face.

"How dreadful," she shuttered, leaning against her own tree. He smirked with pleasure as she watched her sultry green eyes flick over his own body.

"You know, you are hardly one to talk. I don't see any pink on you," she pointed out.

"I'm wearing flamingo boxers," he replied quickly. "You're more than free to check if you don't believe me."

"I'm good, thanks," she responded, cocking an eyebrow.

"Your loss," he shrugged. "Wearing this suit may not exactly go with the theme of the party, but it does carry with it its own perks." He reached into the right flap of his jacket and pulled out a sleek silver flask, engraved with the Malfoy family crest.

"And my mother worried I wouldn't make any friends at this party," Astoria said with a grin, holding out her hand. Draco pulled the flask away from her quickly.

"My sharing is contingent on you being pleasant. I reserve the right to withhold if you're your usual, bitchy self, Greengrass."

Astoria scowled.

"Fine. Now quit being a baby and hand it over." Draco grinned before taking a deep swig and passing it over to the impatient woman in front of him. She took her own impressively deep gulp, before wiping her face with her bare arm.

"Don't call me 'Greengrass'. I'm not impressed by your macho, surname calling, hippogriff shite," she stated, handing the flask back over.

"This is you being nice?" Draco inquired, taking a second drink.

"Yes. I'm allowing us to be on first name basis, _Draco_," she retorted, reaching out for another go. Something about the sultry, raspy way she said his name caused an involuntary shiver to run down his spine. She stood so fearlessly in front of him, barefoot and clad only in that slinky black dress. Her snarky attitude and flippant demeanor made her just as infuriating as her cousin, but in much more intriguing way. He found himself wanting to pin her against the tree and wipe that smirk right off her haughty face. Her refusal to fear or be submissive to him was both irritating and challenging, and he wanted to get under her skin just as much as she was starting to get under his. Recalling from the common room one of her pet-peeves, he placed a casual simper on his face, pushing his blonde hair off his forehead.

"Whatever you say, _Azzy_," he sneered, giving her the first nickname that came to mind. Her reaction was instant and immensely satisfying. Draco could see a bubbling anger billow in her sharp green eyes at the appellation, and her square jaw clenched firmly.

"Don't you dare call me that," she ordered in an arrogant tone.

"Yeah?" Draco asked, moving in close, forcing her back against the tree. He placed both hands against the bark, imprisoning her in his hold without actually touching her. He caught a whiff of a clean scent of leafy plants, coupled with a ragged intake of breath. "And how do you suggest stopping me, _Azzy_?"

A peaceful look crossed over her face as the anger in her eyes seemed to subside. She gently reached out her hand and took hold of his thin black tie, rubbing the silk material through her dainty fingers. She tugged on it gently, pulling him closer so their bodies touched slightly. He felt a sharp jolt at the contact.

"By finding a few, very tender places to shove my two inch spiked heels in to," she purred, yanking on his tie like a short leash. Draco couldn't help but grin, despite believing her threat far from hollow. He backed away slowly, watching his tie run smoothly through Astoria's fingers as he did. He leaned back against his own tree, before tossing the flask back over to her. She curtseyed properly, before spinning off the cap and taking another drain.

"So, what did you find within yourself to give the Birthday Girl?" Draco asked, ready to switch gears. Astoria paused after finishing her hit, eyes looking to the side slightly.

"I didn't poison her birthday cake," she suggested simply, the corner of her lips curving in a smile.

"How generous of you."

"Yes. It's what I get her every year but she rather seems to enjoy staying alive so I figure I'm in the clear."

They both smirked as they passed the flask between each other again.

"Oh, I don't know. I'm sure Mother got her something off that hideously hollow list she sends out with her invitations," Astoria said, finishing the answer. "Heaven forbid she asks for something she could actually use, like a book or an enema."

Draco snorted while he took his sip, causing the clear liquor to spill out of his flask. Astoria grinned at his reaction, snatching the flask out of his grasp before he could spill any more.

"Oh, bugger," she said softly, turning the flask over. "Empty."

"Hmm," Draco hummed, grabbing the container back from her. "It looks like we have two choices. Either we can pack up this little party, go back to the tents, our mothers and Pansy and join the celebration like two good little socialites…" he paused to watch the look of distain cross her increasingly attractive features with a grin.

"Or you can put your newly reestablished wand to good use and keep the spirits flowing."

A genuine smile crossed Astoria's face. Draco was quite certain it was due to the half flask of vodka he had just consumed on a nearly empty stomach, but he couldn't help but think that the sight of the stubborn, Unpure girl in front of him, waving her wand and casting a Replenishing Spell in her dark voice was quite possibly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.


	4. Of Shrews and Ferrets

Of Shrews and Ferrets

Astoria laughed as she and Draco fell through the stairwell door, stumbling into the abandoned second floor corridor of the Parkinson Manor. She had used her childhood memories of the great house's layout to sneak them in through a side door which lead straight to a rarely used staircase, allowing them to remain unseen from the servants and partygoers after Draco implored they go inside. He had suggested the move after they finished their second flask. Astoria began to badger him about the suggestion, calling him a ninny among other things for wanting to leave just because it was getting cold. This was a rather dumb move on her part as she was actually projecting her own worries on to him. She was thinner and wearing far less clothes than he and she absolutely hated the winter weather, preferring the humid atmosphere of her greenhouses. She bore through a third flask with hardly a shiver however, as her stringent stubbornness always gave her a powerful form of discipline when it came against looking weak. When he suggested the move a second time she simply scoffed at him before making her way up to the house, the blonde trailing her like a lost puppy. When he caught up to her he slipped his arm around her waist, crushing her back against his chest as he whispered lewd endearments in her ear. She merely laughed it off and dashed to the house, running fast despite her drunken stupor and handicapping heels. Draco chased after her, catching up easily and continued to try and worm his way into feeling her up even as they traipsed the hallway.

"I always wondered if the rest of the house was a gaudy as the first floor," Draco sneered, commenting on the glided adornments tacked onto the walls of the unnaturally bright hall.

"Oh, have you not seen it?" she asked with a laugh, trying not to stumble in her pointed shoes. Draco snaked an arm around her shoulder under the pretense of steadying her, though his hand dangled suggestively close to her chest. She rolled her eyes at his obviousness but didn't push him away.

"I try to spend as little time here as possible," he explained, his hand rubbing the nape of her neck softly while he talked. "No point in being around Pansy if I can't get a shag in, and that harpy prude of a mother is always about."

"Ah yes, Auntie 'Cia was always the self-proclaimed protector of maidenhood, dignity and modesty. Poor Uncle Richard," Astoria stated with a sly smile.

"Lucky for me it seems your mother doesn't stand for any of those things," he said in a husky whisper. He once again pulled her in close, tightening his draped arm. His hand pushed down the thin strap of her dress, leaving her sharply angled shoulder bare before proceeding to place tight nips and kisses on the exposed skin. His hand once again descended south, his fingertips slowly diving down the folds of her dress.

"I don't think so!" she expressed in a singsong voice, grabbing his offensive hand before it wriggled any further. She spun his arm off of her, pushing him towards an open door.

"Brilliant, a loo! Just what I needed," he exclaimed, grabbing her arm roughly and dragging her in with him. He shut the door behind them before moving straight for the toilet. Astoria heard the unmistakable sound of unzipped trousers and watched as he unabashedly relieved himself with his back turned to her. Astoria threw herself against the closed door. Though a part of her felt outraged at how shamelessly the prat had been fondling her, she couldn't help but smile at his moxie. She felt a respectful camaraderie amongst those not afraid to take what they wanted.

"Is that why you dragged me up here?" she asked with a grin. "You're a man…sort of… couldn't you just piss outside? The whole bloody forest is ripe for your marking." She pushed herself off the door and made her way to the sink. As she washed her hands she couldn't help but notice a tinge of flush in her normally pallid face. She cursed inwardly at herself for showing signs of her excitement. That lusty git was bound to notice. She quickly moved to wash her face when she saw Draco creeping up behind her in the mirror. His hallow grey eyes burned with a hot intensity as they flicked over her bent figure. Astoria saw her own eyes jump in excitement at the gaze, but quickly worked in masking them over with a cold indifference.

"I'd rather showcase my manhood by marking you," he whispered icily, trapping her against the sink. As he slid his hand down her body, she felt more than one appendage pressed against her rear. A hot rage encompassed her, bursting through her cool regime as she spun to face him.

"Don't think that just because my moronic cousin and half the bloody girls at school found your brooding gait despicably charming that I'm impressed by you," she spat, her face inches away from his. His devilish smirk cracked across his pointed features, infuriating her ever further.

"Oh Azzy, it was not my walk that girls found so impressive," he growled, before crushing his lips down upon hers. So blinded was she by rage she could hardly move, and it was only with the jarring shock of his tongue running along the bridge of her mouth did she recover. Astoria pushed him away with all her might before slapping him hard across the cheek, ignoring the excitement the forced contact had caused in her. Draco stood silently after the hit, touching the affected area softly before turning back to her, his eyes clouded with unreadable force.

"It would be an error in your judgment to think me above hitting a woman," he said stoically, grabbing her wrists and slamming them down against the sink counter. Astoria let out a gasp of pain. "Especially a masquerading imposter like yourself."

"I would never give you the benefit of the doubt when it came to simple manners, Draco," Astoria sneered fearlessly, despite being unable to wriggle out of his grasp. Draco grinned and released his hold on her, running his hands smoothly up her exposed arms.

"Because you are the model of a pristine lady, aren't you, Azzy?" he asked with a smirk, his grey eyes focused hard on her chest. Astoria's hand flew back at his face, ready to further punish him for his appellation. With his Seeker reflexes he caught her still pounding wrist, blocking the attack.

"Retract your claws, woman," he commanded, holding her abused joints firmly yet gently in his hands. He raised her hand to his lips, sliding her index finger into his mouth slowly. She hated herself for shivering as he rolled it over his wet velvet tongue, sucking softly before moving to the next.

"I have no desire to beat such an infuriatingly enchanting flower, such as yourself," he stated coolly between fingers. "At least, not in malicious violence." His grey eyes twinkled in a smirk. Astoria ripped her hand out of his gentle grasp, taking the fabric of his tie between her hands to shake violently.

"You are an overly manipulative bastard who deceits others to get what you desire," she hissed.

"Flattery will not get you out of this situation," he murmured with hot breath against her ear.

"And I hate flowers," she retorted, choking his tie again.

"And what is it that you desire, Miss Greengrass?" he asked, his hand running slowly up her slim legs before disappearing up her gown. "Does all your talk of hating the ideas of a relationship and marriage go so far as to stop you from _all_ intimate contact? Or are you as filthy minded underneath your aristocratic exterior as your Blood truly is."

"If I wanted to fuck, it sure as hell wouldn't be with a detestable ferret such as yourself," she exclaimed. Anger flashed across his haughty face at the insult, disrupting the cool composure he had been laying on his conquest.

"You brazen shrew! You have no idea of what I am capable of, the things that I could do to you," he threatened heatedly as he dug his nails hard into her upper thigh.

"Is that a promise?" Astoria asked with a victorious grin, gasping lightly at his inflection. Before he could answer she pulled his face down and slammed her lips into his. If he seemed shocked by her sudden turn of mind, he did not show it. He pushed her back forcefully against the sink counter, grinding into her rhythmically. Using his dominate leverage, Draco used his hard grip on her thighs to push her up into a sitting position on the counter top, prying her legs apart with his own body without ever breaking the kiss. His tongue quickly caught her own, his free left hand dancing over her body, leaving his right firmly grasped on her arse.

Astoria laughed into his mouth, and she could feel the spasms the vibration caused as they spilled down the back her hands so freely roamed across. Her good humor was brought about upon her self-reflection of the situation. She was afflicted with what she called impetuous reasoning. She nearly always found it with in her favor to act upon her desires, which she did abruptly without thinking about the cause or effect until later. Upon that time however, her reasoning normally came to the conclusion that even if she had taken the time to think the action through, she would have done the same thing regardless. Therefore, she always found it best to do or say what was exactly on her mind, the moment she wanted to do it without regret. For example, an hour ago the idea of snogging Draco was laughable, which is what she did when he brought such a thing up. A minute ago she so detested the brute she was quite ready to gouge his eyes out. But when that passionately raged look crossed his face at her insult, she found she wanted nothing more than to be wrapped up in him, his lewd hands roaming expertly across her readied body. Once more, while the first two desires to laugh and gouge had been light feelings, the want to suck the haughty smirk off his face was a hard, concrete need, the kind she knew she had no choice but to follow.

She pulled herself away from her rational to focus more clearly on the matter at hand. For his part Draco seemed to know what he was doing. Though his touches were abrasive and to the point (i.e. straight to her breasts, her arse, her hips) he seemed rather in tuned to granting her pleasure on top of gratifying his own. Without her even noticing he had skillfully slid off the straps of her dress, pushing the fabric down to expose the upper half of her body. Her breasts swelled as he kneaded them gently, tweaking their perked ends between the joints of his fingers. She couldn't help but gasp as he slammed her back further against the mirror, and she gripped his soft blonde hair tightly as he ran his hand up the inside of her thigh.

"Someone feels rather humid," he smirked, as his fingers flittered across her knickers. He grabbed an earlobe between his teeth and grazed it as he hooked a finger at the thong of her lace underwear, brushing her clit teasingly before he began to slide the garment down.

"No!" she said sternly, slapping at the hand that lay under her dress. "I'm not letting you fuck me in the bathroom."

A look of pure outrage filled his face at her road block. She was one hard tug away from being completely naked, while he still had his suit coat on. She had gone from pushing and slapping at his advances to throwing herself at him. He would not be rebuffed by this little tease who sat so ripely in front of him. A thought of taking her how he pleased anyways flashed through his mind. Heaven knows it wouldn't be his first fuck with a girl who was less than willing. It would be all too easy to pin down the stick legged Slytherin and force his way inside of her, ignoring her screams and hits of protest, pounding in and out of her until an inch of her life.

Yet, he let the thought pass. Despite being able to physically over power her without issue, something about the blazed intensity in her eyes awed him to both amazement and fear. Regardless of her stolen station and her refusal as a woman to be submissive to him, he felt a light respect for how she carried herself. And though he was left in no doubt that in this moment he could rape her successfully, he was just as certain that she would find a way to make his already miserable life ten times worse.

So instead he banged his closed fist on the counter, cracking the ceramic tile in overt frustration. She looked down at the damage done with a look of mild curiosity and amusement, before turning her formidable green eyes straight into his own. She looked as though she had read his train of thought, and she smirked again in her own victory. At a furious lost, he hung his head, closing his eyes and succumbing to her statement.

"Where can I fuck you then?" he inquired almost childishly. Astoria was about to tell him during a cold day in hell, when she was hit with another thought entirely. Grinning at her own genius, she tugged on Draco's tie to request his attention. He looked up at her with looming ire, causing her to smile further. She pulled him in closer, locking her lips on to his, tugging the bottom with her teeth before pulling away.

"Follow me," she ordered simply, hopping off the counter top. She slid her black lace knickers off entirely, balling them up in her hold. She placed them in Draco's hand before taking grip of it herself, the soft, damp fabric rubbing between both their hands as she lead him out of the bathroom.

* * *

Draco wasn't sure how to feel as he was being pulled through the corridor. This wasn't at all how he pictured the situation going. His desire for her stemmed from the need to put her in her place. She was crass, pushy, and uppity; everything a woman shouldn't be, at least not to a man like him. She was elevated to a status she didn't deserve, living life on a technicality and politics. He wanted to dominate her, subjugate her, force her into accepting her powerless place when comparing herself to him. Instead, he was being lead like a child by someone who was barely more than one herself. He had had her just where he wanted, pinned helplessly and alone, and all he need to have done was take it.

Yet, he had to admit his makeshift scheme had been flawed from the beginning. It was the look in her eyes as he approached her in the mirror that got him to finally confront her, but it was not the inflection of fear that he had wished to instill that he had seen that had got to him. It was better.

It was pure lust.

When it came down to it, he desperately needed to sleep with her, which aggravated him to no end. Girls were supposed to want _him_ obsessively, the way Pansy did. He was supposed to desire girls for the thrill, but shrug them off if it didn't follow through. This one was making him stupid, sloppy, and, even worse, _principled._

Despite all of this however, he couldn't help but harden as she lead him to Merlin-knows-where, her damp knickers sweating in their joint hands. Where ever she was taking him, she seemed rather excited , causing him to think that maybe the abuses and indignities he just suffered may just be worth it. Besides, if they were going to shag, it meant he still had the time and opportunity to put the Quaffle back in his pitch. He knew more than a few ways to get a witch begging on her knees.

They finally stopped at the end of a particularly long corridor, leading him to believe they were about to enter someone's bed chambers. Astoria opened the door, tugging him inside urgently as she did. Draco's eyes were hit with an absurd amount of pink as he walked through the door. The bed covers, cushion, walls, carpet, everything a varying hue of the girlish color. The floor was strewn with high fashioned clothes and discarded jewels.

"This is Pansy's room, isn't it?" he stated with a slight hesitance.

"Yup," Astoria replied. "The belly of the beast itself." She let go of his hand, her worn knickers falling to the floor. Draco stood back, soaking in the sight. He had certainly never been in Pansy's chambers before, though not from the lack of whispered invitation. Although she may have thought a romp in her bedroom would have been an intimate experience, Draco frankly found himself quite put out by Pansy's quarters. It was busy, loud, and obscenely frivolous; much like the girl herself.

"Oooh, check this out." Draco's attention was drawn to a smirking Astoria who stood over by the disbanded bed. She tossed him a heart shaped frame that sat at the end of the cluttered nightstand. Draco caught it, an ominous feeling sinking into his stomach as he flipped the frame over.

A rather brooding looking picture of himself glared back at him, a photo taken unknowingly sometime during his seventh year. His photo body shuffled around uncomfortably as though it was trying to burrow its way out of the shot. It definitely went through great lengths to avoid the hot pink lipstick out line that marked a corner of the frame.

"This is disturbing," he grumbled, placing the photo face down. "Even for me."

"Your girlfriend giving you second thoughts?" a snotty comment shot from behind. Draco spun around angrily, ready to correct her statement nastily when he caught sight of her. She sat propped on her knees on the pink disheveled bed, the slinky fabric of her black dress draped loosely in her hand. She let it fall with a soft toss, her leering grin the only adornment on her otherwise naked body. Draco's eyes fell across her form, racing across her taut stomach, her flared hips, and the silky midnight triangle kept neatly trimmed at the meeting of her thighs. Her upper torso was bent back slightly, showcasing her swelled and heaving breasts. Though small, they were full, round, and obviously eager. Her inky hair cascaded down her pointed shoulders, framing her strong jawed faced. As always, those bright green eyes glowed intensely, taking Draco slightly aback with their electric clouds of desire.

"If it makes you feel any better," she continued, "you'd be doing the world a favor." She slinked over across the bed like a prowling wildcat, stopping to snag his tie between her hands to tug him forward. Draco followed obediently.

"Think of all the nights this room had to suffer through Pansy pining for you, desiring you, crying out for you," she stated in her dark, raspy tone. "The least you can do is fuck _somebody_ in it."

A winning smirk curled on to his face as his hands ran down her smooth sides, grabbing her close so she fell into his chest.

"You really are a naughty girl, aren't you, Greengrass?" he asked, stopping his caress to cup her plump backside.

"There's only one way to find out for sure," she purred, before grabbing his face with her hands and claiming his lips with hers. The immediate disturbance that had stolen his thoughts from their venture was quickly cast aside as the girl clung tight against his chest, battling for control of the kiss as his hand roughly claimed a perky breast. He had to admit he was impressed by her guile, at how quickly and thoroughly her exploits left him desiring her. He had been with many women and any action that shocked him out of his perpetual boredom deserved some merit. But he was Draco Malfoy, and no woman, no matter how skilled in seduction, could ever best him when it came to shagging.

Draco used his long hands to grasp at her slim thighs, grabbing and yanking up on them tightly so she was forced back on to the bed. Their kiss ended violently as she gasped at her sudden change of position. Draco smiled smugly at her dismay, doffing his jacket as he moved on top of her, crushing her down as he laid all of his weight on top of her. He grabbed her face roughly and slid his tongue easily into her eager mouth. Apparently the brazen shrew responded well to force. Draco smiled.

Her hands flew at his chest, grasping desperately for the buttons. Draco neither helped nor discouraged this action, enjoying her impatient grunts as she struggled to undress him. In a matter of moments she had slipped the last button off his shirt, ripping him through his sleeves as she continued her efforts. He tore off his tie, ridding her of the leash leverage she had so explicitly used on him throughout the afternoon. With just his trousers left to tackle, Draco flipped himself on his back, resting his arms lazily by his head as he leaned against the pillows.

Astoria stared at him with an indignantly arched eyebrow, scowling at his waiting position.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing?" she demanded. Draco's eyes flickered in amusement from her exasperated face down to glancing admiringly at his pronounced protrusion held captive by his remaining clothes.

"Giving you better access," he said lazily, keeping to his relaxed poise. He grinned as he watched her eyes flare with violent grievance.

"You're the one who took it this far. You didn't seem to be the kind of girl who left things half finished. You're not a quitter, are you Azzy?" he asked. He sat up quickly, stroking her cheek and kissing her fiercely before she could verbally lash him for the affront. She bit down hard on his lip between sucking his tongue expertly. With his free arm Draco led her over to his erection, placing her small hand on the pronounced head and showing her to massage it gently. She grasped it tightly, causing a stomach wrenching pain to filter through his system. Draco gritted to bear through, knowing his insults would not pass through her undefended. Her desire to affront him quickly melted back into that of unadulterated lust, and her strokes morphed into a more skillful and pleasurable manner (though still coupled with the occasional wincing tug).

Without further direction, Astoria sprang to her knees in a full on straddle and began to tackle their singular obstruction. She whipped off his belt in a fluid motion, cracking it like a leather whip at her side. She unhooked the latch of his slacks quickly, taking both his trousers and boxers off in gruff pull and tossing the garments to the littered floor before returning back to Draco's attention. An approving smirk filled her face as she gazed at him, fully erect and waiting. Her delicate hands immediately went to work, spilling down the smooth skin of his member tightly, causing Draco to throw his head back in delight. He allowed himself a few moments to revile in his pleasure, gasping as she pushed lightly on his pressure points. She moved with such speedy skill he knew he could lose it right then and there if he wanted. But despite such a desire he knew there was much more to this venture than just getting off.

He grabbed her wrists suddenly, sitting up with a bolt and forcing her back down to the foot of the bed. She had to struggle to keep her head up to see what he was doing. Draco forced her shoulder down onto the bed to assure she stayed in place, while his free hand roamed up her parted legs. He examined the glistening area he had hence forth only caught stolen glimpses of. From the corner of his eye he could see Astoria staring at him, the stark anticipation of her face marked with daring eyes. He moved his face to look at her clearly, feeling her rushed pulse from the hand that still lay on her shoulder. He released his firm grip, stroking her face gently before pushing his middle and index fingers in to her mouth, pulling them in and out for her to suck. She nipped his tips playfully as he pulled out the final time, and he flashed a smile before turning his attention back to her.

Using his newly lubricated fingers, he pulled her lips a part and began to rub the area gently, sliding his middle finger back between her swollen clit and entrance with a deliberately steady speed. Upon each up turn of his stroke he massaged her mound more thoroughly; on the down he pushed himself inside her further, until he built her up strongly from one point just to abandon it for the other. He felt her start to squirm in his arms, grunting both in pleasure and impatience as he teased her.

"Quite the eager beaver aren't we, Greengrass?" he asked with a smirk, sliding his hand up her body back to her breasts.

"You're a pig," she said simply, her arm moving down to attend to the area he recently left. He watched her touch herself with a surprising amount of self pleasure, kneading her breasts to her set rhythm as she expertly moved her fingers about.

"You know," he stated suddenly, pulling himself away from the mesmerizing sight, "your breasts aren't nearly as small I thought they were." He grabbed a full handful of flesh one last time before returning to her cunt, relieving her of her duty by pumping in and out fiercely.

"That's funny," she replied drolly, her back arching to the pace. "I was just about to say the same thing about your cock."

Draco glared at the self satisfied smile on her face and sneered. In his quickest of movements he placed himself between her legs, folding her over herself as he threw her ankles over his shoulders. He pushed his weight on to her so her thighs crushed against her breasts. He watched her wince in discomfort as he saw a hint of apprehension cross her intense eyes as she realized the dominate pose he had tucked her in. She started to struggle but he just leaned in closer, her own knees locking her shoulders in place.

"I would think twice about that lip of yours. You're hardly in a position to spout cheek." He accented his point by sliding his sticky fingers back into her mouth, grinning as she eagerly sucked off her own fluid. He couldn't help but kiss her after watching, and he tasted her saltiness as her tongue flickered into his mouth.

"Now," he said, settling himself into his stance and whispering hoarsely in her ear, "tell me how bad you want me."

"Fuck you!" she spat with a sneer.

"Not the pronoun I was looking for," he replied gruffly, slamming his fingers back inside her. The angle allowed for extremely deep penetration, and she let out an involuntary groan as he pumped inside her.

"I'm not going to ask you again," he stated, watching intensely as her face gripped into one of pleasure.

"Go to hell," she moaned, sticking the words as best she could.

"I'm quite certain I booked a reservation there years ago," he replied. Astoria let out a rough laugh at his comment. She bit her lip and looked up at him with strange blend of intensity and tenderness. Despite every other emotion and feeling going on, the spark that flared down his spine as she smoothed his sweat drenched hair could not evade his attention. He rested his head on her palm as she cupped his face, sharing an odd moment of intimacy with the girl he had worked so hard to dominate.

"Well in that case, you better fuck me like your soul depends on it."

Draco let out a smile, reveling in his victory. He kissed her hard before taking himself in his hands and entering her forcefully. He let out his own grown as he slid far into her depths, and he pumped in and out of her eagerly, resting his shoulders against her legs. Astoria threw her head back in a groan, clenching her jaw tight to keep from screaming out. Her bent position caused the experienced girl to be virginally tight, and each of Draco's eager thrusts brought her closer to orgasm. Draco felt his mind going black as he rocked, his stomach clenching as she ran her hands up his thigh and arse. He steadied himself to watch the whimpering look dash across her usually haughty face, intensifying his feeling of power as she so clearly enjoyed her submission.

"I knew when it came down to it all you needed was a good shag to put you in your place," he growled as he bent down to kiss her. Astoria's eyes flew open in a flash, and with unprecedented strength she surged her legs forward, knocking him off of her unwittingly. He hissed in pain as she ripped him out of her, his cock swollen in the outset.

"What the hell, Greengrass?" he yelled, hitting the bed in tantrum. Astoria stood up in front of Pansy's cluttered vanity, her lean body jutted out rigidly as she stared at Draco cradling himself on the mattress.

"And just which part of your foolish mind thought that I would stand for such a comment?" she asked coolly, turning around to face herself in the grand oval mirror. A slow smirk spread across his face as he watched her sort out her disheveled hair. He pushed himself off the bed, reaching her side in a saunter. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, catching a deep whiff of her clean leafy scent. She didn't throw off his hold, but she moved her head away when he tried to caress her cheek.

"I was just commenting on happy and pleasant you were looking. I wanted you to know that I put that special smile on your face," he muttered in her ear, burying his words in her jet hair.

"So does my showerhead," she replied in a lazy challenge, remaining stoic to his touches. Draco grinned at her remark, more than ready to best her at this game.

"Oh, but I can do things your showerhead couldn't even cover," he breathed, slipping his hand back between her thighs.

"That's debatable," she scoffed, catching his leering eyes in the vanity mirror. "It has eight settings."

"You are a detestable little wench, aren't you?" he stated gruffly, grabbing her hips hard so she doubled over. He pushed her arms down so she was forced to cling to the vanity, while his hips rocked teasingly against her backside. "But I guarantee you that after I'm through I'll have you on your knees begging for more. And you're going to watch while I prove it."

Before she could react he slammed back into her, using all of his levity to push his way inside. She let out a sharp moan at his sudden reentrance, and hung her head between her gripped arms as she let out whimpers of pleasure.

"I told you to watch," he commanded, tugging roughly on her hair to force her head back up. She snapped forward, an angry yet playful look in her eyes boring into him as she caught his stare. Draco quickened his motion, going at her as hard and fast as he possibly could, centering his roaming hands firmly on her hips to steady her. Astoria clutched tighter to the table, trinkets and perfume bottles tumbling to the floor as it shook aggressively. Draco saw her actively try to hold back, but even with a bit lip she couldn't help but let her moans escape. A sharp slap to her arse found her every time he felt she closed her eyes for too long, forcing her to watch their reflection as he went at her madly.

"Draco…" she sputtered in a gasp, taking several sharp intakes of breath. He pushed her closer against the bureau so he could keep her centered during his fast pace, freeing one of his hands up to slip tight circles across her clit. He kissed her back, neck and shoulders as he watched her expression slip into one of ecstasy, her dynamics no longer restrained as she let out deep groans and whimpers.

"Cum for me, Azzy," he directed needlessly, muttering under her sharp cries of climax. He held her sides firmly as she all but collapsed from her orgasm, continuing his strokes inside her lazily as she picked herself up. She stood up slowly, allotting him time to slide out gently as she spun around to face him, leaning hard against the nearly broken vanity. Draco kissed her roughly, gripping her reddened arse as she returned the motion in dismay.

"I dare you to tell me that wasn't more impressive than your shower," he grunted, rubbing his still swollen erection against her shaking legs. Her green eyes flashed at the demand, and Draco prepared himself for whatever snarky comment she decided to fling at him. Instead, she let her lips curl into a side smile, and she dropped quickly to her knees. Draco let out a gasp of surprise as she plunged his length into her mouth, swirling her tongue precipitously against the tip while her teeth gently grazed against his shaft. It had taken every ounce of strength he had during her orgasm not to lapse into his own, and her sudden maneuver almost shocked him into release. But he was determined to enjoy his hard won victory and held off for as long as he could as she worked him, entangling his fingers in her thick black hair as he rolled his hips gently to meet her motions.

"Fuck, Astoria," he groaned sharply, rocking a bit faster as he spilled his seed. She caught the bulk of it in her mouth, licking his end lightly as she did. She stroked him softly as he let out his final spurts, letting the hot liquid land upon her neck and chest. After a few moments Draco was finally spent, and he pulled his hands out of her tangled hair so he could rest back against the dresser. Still on her knees, Astoria reached around on the floor, grabbing the newly gifted dress robes Pansy had left on the floor after trying them on. She wiped her face with them, spitting the contents of her mouth into the skirts as she cleaned herself.

"Happy Birthday, Cousin," she scoffed, balling up the soiled robes before leaping gracefully to her feet.

"You truly are something else, Greengrass," he laughed, slipping back to the formal after finally moaning her real name for the first time just moments earlier.

"You're not too bad yourself, kid," she replied offhandedly. Draco cocked an eyebrow as he watched her slide her dress and heels back on quickly while he made no rush to gather his clothes.

"Kid?" he asked in humor. She simply shrugged, running her hands up his chest as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You certainly know how to keep a girl entertained at a party," she answered again, placing a final hard kiss onto his mouth before she pulled away.

"It was my pleasure," he said easily.

"I bet," she smirked, eyeing his naked body one last time before she headed out the door. "See you around, Draco."

"I bloody well hope so," he muttered under his breath, shaking his head roughly. Still slightly buzzed from the alcohol and fairly elated from the effects of a good shag, Draco took his time searching through the messy room for his clothes. He had to admit that, despite coming from the abomination Astoria, it had been the best shag he had had in awhile. It had been playful, angst ridden and challenging. And while he knew he didn't instill the shame or full on submissive outset he strode for, he definitely knocked her down a peg or two (though if he was being completely truthful, his ego probably absorbed more abuse than did hers).

Never the less, as he tugged his trousers back on, he couldn't help but smile at the memory of her intense eyes as she cried out his name in pleasure. It was an image he was certain he would not forget anytime soon.

He scanned Pansy's room a final time, searching to make sure he didn't leave anything of his behind in the mess, when his eye was caught by something. A tiny fleck of black in an otherwise sea of pink. Draco bent down and picked up the black laced knickers Astoria undoubtedly knowingly left behind. His smile grew as he folded up the garment and placed it into his pocket. He _definitely_ was not going to forget this.


	5. Whiskey Sours

Whiskey Sours

Other people are probably the worst things about going out in public. When one is cooped up for days on end the outside world takes on a romanticized form, presenting in images of wide open spaces and inherent freedoms. Upon entering this perceived utopia elation can cloud the first disparaging signs of reality, allowing for a brief, blissful time of near happiness. This feeling however is quiet fragile and can be destroyed by the smallest of things: a rock in one's laced up boot, being spattered with mud by a wayward carriage, or just the pure, simple stupidity that seems to infect the general populace.

"So, how do you like your eggs in the morning?"

Pick up lines. Draco shook his head in mundane irritation as he took a swig of his whiskey on the rocks. He saw no use in indulging such obscene conversation, and observed that such shoddy lines never worked; at least not on the kind of woman Draco found decent enough to fancy.

He paid as little mind to his surroundings as possible as he sat in the crowded pub. It was a dark, dingy, and unbelievably smoky establishment off the beaten track. It attracted creatures of various levels of suspect and though such a troupe instinctively heightened your guard, it also left the inhabitants with feeling that they were in the proper company. Whether or not being included in such a band was viewed as a good thing varied on both Draco's temperament and stage of consumption. There was no lack of amusing stories to be heard, and the women there were normally as loose and damaged as the rickety stool he perched upon. Even on bad nights the pub had the advantage of having such a questionable reputation that Lucius never even entertained the idea of his son being a regular patron.

But even these qualities could hardly cheer Draco up at the moment.

It had started off as a hopeful day. The Texan was expected to drop by for dinner, to catch up with old family friends and, perhaps, talk business. Draco eagerly anticipated the visit. Not only did the eccentric cowboy hold one of the last hopes the Malfoys had but Draco actually looked forward to seeing the man himself. Rhett Miller had been an essential staple of his childhood. Rhett would always stay at the Manor when he visited England to oversee some of his investments. He was a far throw from the cool demeanor of his father, which even as a child Draco recognized as the correct mannerism for a male. However, Draco had loved it when he stayed with them. Rhett was loud and abrasive, yet genuinely kind and good-humored. It was hard not to be impressed by the burly man in denim robes and immaculate Stetson cowboy hat. Rhett in kind had taken to Draco as the child eagerly lapped up any tall tale, personal story, or hybrid narrative the man could think of. He had always arrived with a small trinket to present to the boy. These toys, though indefensibly cheap, were some of his favorites as they were a break from the proper norm he was allowed as an upper class Pureblood.

Draco had not seen Rhett since he had left for his first year of school. Mr. Miller had parceled off his British assets to his ex-wife, the vast sum of which he hoped would keep her in a separate hemisphere indefinitely.

Although almost ten years had passed Rhett looked much the same, if not more fiery than Draco had remembered. Upon arrival he passed by Lucius' warm nod and embraced him with an uncomfortable force. He loudly raved over Narcissa's eternal beauty, charming the woman to a state of blush and causing the husband to quickly push forth his full grown son to switch attentions.

"Hell, spit and damn, you've grown like a weed in the summertime!" Rhett proclaimed happily, eagerly shaking Draco's hand. Draco happily reciprocated the contact.

Dinner had been the most enjoyable Draco had had in ages. His father had pulled out all the stops for their guest, no doubt causing a flagrant hit in their food budget, but this was definitely an occasion for celebration. Rhett's stories continued to capture Draco's attention even in adulthood and the two naturally manipulated the majority of the table conversation. When the meal concluded Draco was more than ready to retire to the office and get down to business.

"Come Miller, let's finish catching up over a few drinks. Draco, keep your mother company," Lucius said quickly, cutting Draco off mid rise from his seat. The young Malfoy's face immediately fell, and all the negative temperament he usually harbored rushed back. His displeasure was obvious, but even Rhett did not challenge Lucius decision, as correcting a man on personal family members was as taboo in Texas as it was there.

The only divergence of plan was Rhett pausing to hand Draco his traditional present. In no mood to be further labeled a child by being handed a plastic stallion figurine, Draco accepted only out of decorum with no intention of untying the velvet bag. Rhett however insisted. Draco scowled and reached into the bag. His hand rested, not on a mane, but the neck of a rather fat bottle.

"My own homegrown brand of tequila, made from the agave that grows on my ranch. Of course, moonshinin's not exactly what you'd call 'legal', but I figured y'all wouldn't mind," Rhett explained with a wink, his hearty smile causing his leather tanned face to wrinkle. "Mind you, that stuff is pretty potent. Make sure you save it for when you're fixin' to have a special night."

And with that the man disappeared to talk business. His mother too left the table, knowing full well that given the current circumstances Draco had no interest in "keeping her company". Draco clutched his bottle angrily, seething over his lost opportunity.

His father didn't like Rhett. He viewed the man as boisterous, obnoxious, and far too animated. Their "friendship" had everything to do with ancient family ties and not much to do with common interests (except, perhaps, money). The only thing Lucius truly approved of Rhett was his continuance of a Pureblood line (an impressive feat in America) and the fact that he was rich. And as slippery as Lucius could be his discontent for the man's behavior would undoubtedly leak out during solitary interaction. Draco had known this and assumed his presence would act as a mediator, steering conversation to a point both men could get along with and pushing them to mutually beneficial business. Left alone Lucius would undoubtedly let his ridged expectations of decorum turn the meeting into a disaster. Rhett had imparted to Draco at a young age that a Texan's stubbornness knew no bounds once offended.

In no state of mind to simply hang around the Manor, Draco escaped quickly out of the house. Lucius would be wrapped up long enough for him to escape unseen. Then it was only a matter of waiting out the clock. His father would never find him in this pub and would instead wait to cut him off at their town home outside Diagon Alley. Lucius however would not sleep there and would eventually go home just to drag Draco back in the morning.

Of course his eventual capture could always be prolonged by going home with someone else. Yet tonight he was too irritated to harbor such desire. All he wanted was to absorb as much whiskey as he could and still be able to stagger back to the townhouse. Besides, there wasn't really plethora of available women in his immediate surroundings. Indeed, he wasn't so sure if the thing to his left was so much female as she was troll. Her offending stench and unintelligible grunts were more than enough to question her humanity, let alone the rough state of her appearance. It was a wonder the man to his right was trying hard to pick up anyone here. Draco scowled as he heard him try and repeat his "smooth line" on whoever sat at the very end of the bar.

"I said, how do you like your eggs in the morning?" the man repeated ostentatiously, as though the object of his lustful affections had somehow misheard him.

"Unfertilized," a dark and raspy voice responded without hesitation.

Draco sputtered a laugh into his drink, both at the wit of the response and the probable recognition of the speaker. Draco leaned around the confused man to his right to confirm his suspicions.

Sure enough Astoria sat at the end of the bar, stirring her thin straw into a glass of clear liquid, shooting her assailant a look of pure loathing. The tall, broad shouldered wizard shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he absorbed the gaze before quickly moving away. Draco couldn't blame him. She was a fierce sight to behold in her razor heeled boots that almost extended up to her knees, followed by an impressively short skirt and silky camisole top. But though her dress left her incredibly alluring, her eyes burned with a challenging glower that befitted one who wanted to be left alone and dared anyone to try and get in her way.

Soon those green eyes fell off the retreating back of the well built wizard over to her neighbor by proxy. Her strong jaw unclenched upon seeing Draco and her eschewing gaze turned into that of an amused smirk.

"Are you stalking me?" she inquired, cocking a thick black eyebrow as she stirred her drink.

"I was just about to ask the same thing of you," he responded. It was rather strange, he thought to himself, that they had spent five joint years in the same House and had hardly ever said a passing word, only later to run into one another three times in less than a month. However, as his eyes flickered over her lithe legs, the memory of how easily they all but wrapped around his neck brought out a flood of memories of Pansy's party. Perhaps providence had plans for him to go elsewhere tonight after all.

Draco had a smug suspicion that she too was recalling the events from a fortnight ago. She seemed to struggle to hold her usual indifferent gaze as she looked at him. Her lips were upturned into a subtle smirk and her eyes shined in challenging amusement.

"I do believe I was here first," she combated, taking a long sip of her drink. "I would have noticed the radiant cloud of self-superiority masking rays of internal loathing and known you were here."

"How sweet that you go out of your way to seek me out in public," he replied with his best collected smirk. "But I should point out that this is _my_ pub. I come here all the time."

"How careless of me. Here I thought this was an establishment designed to cater to the desires of the social outcast and self-exiled. Though, I suppose you are king of such company, so naturally _you'd _have to be here."

She accentuated her comment by extending her smirk, signaling her half-jest. The insoluble mix of infuriation, desire, frustration and curiosity filtered through his system pungently as she talked. A part of him wanted to shut the creature up once and for all, while another longed desperately for her to continue talking to him. It was immensely irritating how easily she brought out a rise in him. Yet for ages he had felt so desensitized from the war and his family's fall from grace that experiencing such strong and complex emotions hit him like a drug. And like any desperate addict he struggled against his better judgment and sought for more.

"And you are a wandering diplomat of outcast and exile, are you not, Azzy?" he inquired lightly, finishing off the last of his glass and signaling with a snap for it to be refilled.

"I don't know where you get off thinking you can call me by that ridiculous name," she stated haughtily. Draco grinned as he took a deep swig of his replenished drink.

"I think you know exactly where I 'got off'," he retorted cockily. Astoria dropped her mouth as if to reply, but was for once unable to produce a comeback. Instead she spun back to the bar, grinning in spite of herself. Draco smirked as he watched her finish off her drink and stare determinedly ahead in contemplative silence.

"Can I buy you another cocktail?" he asked, feeling her verbal affront would be softened enough with the gesture that she would once again engage in conversation. She laughed as she spun herself about in her swivel seat.

"I am quite able to buy my own drinks, thank you," she scoffed with a smile. "Even if they do charge a couple Knuts for a two-parts hydrogen, one-part oxygen."

"You're just drinking water?" he asked, looking down in slight disbelief at her glass. She nodded as she continued to twist her chair.

"I am a very competent potions brewer. I am quite able to mix my own drinks in the comfort of my flat and don't need to pay some drunken half-wit to do it for me," she explained in a surprisingly good-natured tone.

"So you're here for what, to expand upon your budding social life?" he asked, hiding his curiosity behind a sneer. Astoria laughed again, throwing her head back so her black hair fell across her face. She shook it back into place before responding.

"Ever the clever one, aren't you Draco?" she asked, taking a sip of her recently refilled glass. She continued without looking at him. "But actually I came here to quit smoking."

Draco rolled his eyes, waiting for her to laugh again before revealing her true purpose. But no further explanation came, and slowly but violently her statement resounded through his head.

"You came to a pub to quit smoking?" he repeated in disbelief, for even then he had to blink rapidly to keep the haze from drying out his eyes.

"Yes. Apparently inhaling lungfuls of toxic sludge over prolonged periods of time is bad for you," she replied, grinning playfully while keeping her head staunchly forward.

"Who knew?" he replied sarcastically, though he still was left wracked with curiosity. It didn't help either that she kept her smug expression turned from him, giving him only a glimpse of her grinning face.

"And so why, specifically, did you choose a pub, _this_ pub, to test your wills?" he inquired, focusing on his glass to deflect his own attention from her. "This is probably the smokiest pub near Diagon Alley."

"Filled with lots of smoking idiots," she agreed. She jerked her head over to the direction of a table. Draco followed the movement and saw the broad chested wizard from before, surrounded by a collection of drunken comrades, all laughing harshly in between pulling in drags of smoke.

"I find it's easier to resist addiction when the stupidity of it is barking at your face. At least when I'm sober," she added, returning back to her glass. Draco mulled her logic over. It was a skewed viewpoint, yet one that made sense in an odd way. But that, he supposed, was Astoria summed up: odd, but in a sensible manner.

She continued to stare forward, discouraging any further conversation. Draco stewed silently on his own stool, slowly drinking his whiskey. He fitfully wanted to keep talking to her, and it irked him that she so easily paid no mind to him. What was worse was the extreme at which the whole situation bothered him. A mutt's affections should have been of no concern of his, yet he couldn't help but sneer stubbornly.

She kept herself fresh in his mind by turning slowly in her chair, using her legs to pump back and forth as her eyes stared cunningly at the wall. Draco couldn't help but watch her muscles define against her pallid skin as she tightened them up. He recalled just how soft and responsive her skin was. Goosebumps had spread across it on the lightest of his blows or touches. He knew that just above her slimly defined thigh sat her jutting hips; the broad protrusions easily gripped using his whole hand. She let out a small noise as she finished sipping the last of her water, and his ears filled with the sounds of her little whimpers and deep groans she had emitted as she climaxed. That thought, of course, tumbled into her next chronological action. Her brazen decent into sucking him off after their shag was a memory that had been seared into his private thoughts, and he had more than once conjured the image when tending to himself over the past weeks. Even now he felt himself get excited as she sat so close; her leafy scent somehow permeating through the smoky atmosphere.

He quickly diverted his attentions back to his drink, all but downing it in one large gulp. It was getting time to leave, he reasoned irritably. The woman had first invaded his thoughts, inexplicably worming her way into his heaviest desires, and now had all but expelled him from his favorite retreat with her mere disinterested presence.

The beginnings of a scowl were starting to form when she slammed her own finished glass down on the bar, tossed out a few coins, and scooted quickly out of her chair. Without a word she climbed off and headed towards the exit. She had taken a few steps past him, far enough for him to write her off completely, before she turned suddenly on the spot.

"You coming?" she asked, her eyes flickering up and down his frame. Draco caught her gaze and was nearly caught off guard. Her green irises were clouded again with that burning lustful inflection that had started the whole mess.

"No," Draco replied, finishing the rest of his whiskey and catching a flash of disappointment on her haughty face.

"But we will be."

Astoria smirked at his lewd pun and turned around triumphantly, walking out of the pub without waiting for Draco to catch up.

(_A/N: I'm sorry it took me so long to update. At first I was updating my other story, then my laptop broke and I was without it for three weeks, and now school is back in full swing. The good news is, Chapter 6 is very, very close to being completed. I actually was going to have two parts to this chapter but just decided against it because it will take me awhile to get around to finish it. So here is part one in its built up glory, and please be patient for the next update, it WILL be soon. And very, very juicy…)_


	6. Revenge of the Reverse Cowgirl

Revenge of the Reverse Cowgirl

Astoria was livid beyond words.

She was in fact so engulfed with rage that every object in her dimly lit flat was outlined in a piercing white light. She stared up at the ceiling, seething as she lay on her back atop the disheveled mattress. As a woman who prided herself on being fully able to express her anger in clear and often creative ways she was even further taken aback that her rabid discontent was so consuming she could hardly move. In fact the only reason she was finally able to haul herself up and roll from out under the comforter was to get as far away from the source of her fury as possible.

Draco Malfoy lay sprawled across the majority of her bed, breathing deeply, contentedly; smirking at her momentarily before lazily throwing an arm over his eyes. He had cast a gaze upon her as though he had just caused her to have a religious experience, like his actions had brought her in the presence of a divinity. All Astoria could think of as she wrapped her robe around her body was how much she wished she could banish him to hell.

As she made her way into her small kitchen and stared determinedly at the stove she pondered over the events of the night in order to distribute fault properly.

She wasn't exactly sure why she had invited him back to her place. She hadn't had anything to drink nor was she in a particularly randy mood; in fact after a long day at her new job sex had been the last thing on her mind. When the tall, handsome and impressively built wizard had come to chat her up her only enjoyment was the harrowing look upon his face as she shot him down.

Yet when he moved aside and reveled that Draco was sitting only a stool away her body couldn't help but perk up. Over the last few weeks the man had proven himself to be a spot of amusement and his presence wasn't all that unwelcoming. His mix of confident wit and subtle struggles for her attention was very entertaining indeed. His smooth allusion to the events of their last meeting had sent her mind back to that surprisingly blissful coupling.

He had been a remarkable shag. Quite possibly the best she had ever had, though she would _never_ give him the satisfaction of knowing that. But it was still undeniable that the man knew his way around. His moves were powerful and concise, making it easier for her to willfully follow his lead. He had been resilient enough to counter all her attacks without any physical sign of abuse. She had turned more than one man soft mid-act with her insults, causing an anticlimactic end to a subpar shag. Yet Draco seemed to have been fueled by her manipulations, and had reacted to her challenges with unbridled force. She had been so thoroughly impressed she willingly took part in an act she normally only engaged in under complete necessity. Astoria hated to admit it, but she had loved every second of it.

Perhaps that is why she had broken one of her principle rules. She hardly ever fucked the same man on more than one occasion. When she had decided at fifteen that she was tired of being a virgin she simply sought out boys worth her time. She then quickly discovered that a lover's worthiness expired after about twenty minutes. Then they either became insufferably clingy or undeservedly haughty. She didn't know which she detested more.

But Draco hadn't been like the others after that first time, and as she promptly ignored him at the pub her mind could only focus on how masterfully he had pinned her down, and how he had been the closest of any man to get her to beg to be fucked.

She still harbored no regrets for her invite when he caught up to her outside the pub and followed her home. There was no immediate contact or conversation between the two; in fact they traversed most of the distance between the pub and her flat above the apothecary in silence. Yet somewhere between turning into the side alley and opening her front door they had thrown themselves at each other. She wasn't sure how they managed to climb the thirteen wooden steps up to her entrance way. All she remembered was waging war against his mouth as he kissed her crushingly. She somehow managed to unlock the door without releasing the firm grip she had on his silky blonde hair.

They all but fell into her flat, tearing off layers of scarves and jackets before the door was even closed. Flakes of snow drifted on to her hardwood floor before Draco kicked the door back into its frame. With the strange navigational powers men obtain when they are about to get laid, he led her to her own bedroom with hardly a glance to the flat's layout.

Her body had flushed and screamed with longing as he hastily freed both of them of their clothes. She held a disproportioned rush of desire as he requested her to keep her sharp boots on as he slid off her knickers. His steel grey eyes glowed with a hot intensity, and her need for gratification outweighed her desire to mock and degrade his efforts. His cock was swollen at the mere sight of her naked form and its own eager anticipation, and was like stone after she gave it a few desperate strokes. Without warning he had knocked her hand away and plunged into her violently. A gurgled moan escaped her throat as he firmly grasped her hips. He rocked into her with a forceful elegance, quickly building up her pleasure. He paid little attention to her clit, keeping his hands either entangled in her black hair or tightly placed on her hips, breasts or ass, but the sensitive contact was hardly needed as he pumped in and out rigorously. In minuets she felt the makings of her release, and she arched her hips as high as she could to further the contact.

"Fuck, Draco," she called out in a sharp intake of breath. "So close!"

He released his haughty, spoiled brat smirk on to her; one if given at any other time other then delivering an orgasm would have merited a seething gaze and perhaps a slap. But if he wanted self congratulations, she reasoned, then let him grin all he wanted. As long as she got off she couldn't care what faces he made.

And then Astoria was pulled from her blissful thoughts by the alarming sputtering that filled her ears. Her eyes shot open to see Draco's firmly closed, his breathing ragged and a look of ecstasy plastered on his face.

"No, wait!" she cried in protest. But it was too late. He expelled the lasts of his thrusts into her, leaving her built up just shy of her own release. After a throaty groan he pulled out, grinning cockily and wiping his mess on her freshly laundered sheets.

Astoria could forgive a man for not delivering if he was just a bad shag. It was hard to judge someone's performance abilities based off limited interaction and she occasionally fell in bed with a dud. She normally just sent these men home with a laugh, disappointed but without any particular malice. She was so good at making them feel physically inept by the time of their departure that she at least received some pleasure.

But she knew better of Draco, knew he had stamina. His quick release had nothing to do with ability and everything to do with laziness. Indeed, even at the very moment he continued to lounge casually on her bed as if he owned the place.

And they said _she_ was a bastard.

It was, perhaps, partially her fault. She had been too eager for a sensual repeat of their last time she neglected to trial him with abuse. Perceiving her as a readily willing participant he placed no thought passed his own desires and subsequently viewed himself as a god upon his own ejaculation. Her fury caused her to shake.

The creaks of the floorboards announced the prodigal son has risen from his crypt. He walked passed her in the kitchen without a glance, his waist wrapped in her new sheet. He made straight for her pantry.

"You have anything to eat in this dump?" he demanded, searching the storage with a lazy flicker of his eyes before shutting the door. Astoria's mouth dropped slightly, causing her to look mistakenly dumbfounded, rather than outraged. He snatched a green apple out of a wicker basket and rinsed it in her kitchen sink.

"What the hell is that?" he asked with a sneer, pointing to an old bottle containing a suspended liquid. Even from across the kitchen she could smell its pungent scent.

"It's my homemade soap," she responded through gritted teeth. "It removes oil and grease without drying out the skin." Draco snorted.

"Like father like daughter," he responded snarkily, before taking a crisp bite of the apple and heading towards the kitchen table.

Astoria could scarcely remember a time she felt so angry. His snotty comments and superior behavior could not be tolerated and would not go unpunished. If she had had her wand on her she would have shot so many curses at him the Enforcers wouldn't even know how to begin to identify him. Unfortunately her wand was discarded in her bedroom, quite out of immediate reach.

Her heavy cast iron skillet, on the other hand, lay quite within the proximity. Astoria picked it up firmly and smiled at its thick and heavy weight. Though a rather common and Muggle way to get her point across, she did imagine that bashing him upside the head a few times would feel almost as good as her stolen orgasm. It would shut him up at the very least.

She walked out of her kitchen surreptitiously, quietly bridging the distance between them. Draco sat unawares, loudly biting into her last Granny Smith as he read the morning's Daily Prophet. As he shuffled through the paper noisily, Astoria contemplated whether the blow should go to the side of the head or straight to the face. He was rather attractive, and it seemed almost a shame to reduce such pointed symmetrical features to a pulp. Then again, the fucker deserved every insult he could get. She grinned as she stood behind him and poised to strike.

"I'm so tired of reading about that damned Potter!" Draco exclaimed, pausing over a half page article with a sneer. "All that rubbish happened over two years ago, you'd think they'd find something else to talk about. What I wouldn't give to wipe that bloody cursed scar off his forehead."

Astoria, mid swing, was stopped as his last comment reverberated through her ears. Without warning her brain kicked into overdrive as a novel idea hit her like…a vengeful woman with a cast iron skillet. Although she had wanted nothing more moments ago than to bludgeon the man to her heart's content, now all she could think of was the new project that was quickly forming in her mind. She reeled over the complexity of a new potion and how she would even go about tackling it. Her thoughts were accentuated by a soundtrack of hers and Draco's words.

"_What I wouldn't give to wipe that bloody cursed scar off his head."_

"_It works to remove oil and grease without drying out the skin."_

"_Like father like daughter."_

It was, perhaps, possible. Why she had never thought of tackling something like this before…but she had been trapped at her mother's for so long. Why had no one else ever thought of doing it this way…most people aren't allergic to Mandrakes, and probably wouldn't have made a backwards jump _from_ vanity _to _medicinal…

An excitement pulsed down her body, and she instantly wanted to run to her journal and start jotting down her ideas, flip through her potions and Herbology books, and see if she could actually get somewhere. This desire was punctured as her unwitting muse finished shuffling through the paper and turned to look at her. He knitted his eyebrows at seeing her so close to him, lost in thought and holding a heavy skillet at her hip. His eyes narrowed.

"What are you doing?" he asked, in a tone both demanding and worrisome. Astoria shook herself from her thoughts and focused her attention back to the matter at hand. He had, in a way, redeemed himself for some of his behavior. Under different circumstance she may have even thanked him. Instead she tossed the skillet on to the table with a clatter, redacting her plans of physical assault. He eyed her carefully, unsure of just what her intentions were. The spark of fear returned to his eyes.

Astoria smiled.

She would reward him for his inspirations, she decided. She would in fact do for him the greatest thing one person could do for another: she would teach him a lesson.

"Are you still hungry?" she asked, tilting her head so her hair fell softly across her face.

"How could I possibly not be after finding nothing in your sorry excuse for a kitchen?" he demanded, balling up the paper and tossing it across the table. It took every ounce of self-control Astoria possessed to keep from rolling her eyes.

"Maybe you should look again. Surely there is something here that can arouse your appetite," she suggested. She then tugged gently on the belt of her silky black robe, letting the fabric fall open naturally. She watched his eyes flicker instantly with intrigue as he followed the path of the folds, stopping at the peaks of her breast so her stomach and inner thighs were teasingly visible. There was an immediate tightening of the sheet around his waist. She was impressively relieved at the sight, grateful that he was able to be stimulated so soon after their last fuck. Then again, it was not like he had been working too hard at that time…

"I'm not sure if I'm in the mood for a second helping," he replied, his voice shifting from his spoiled whine over to a sly demeanor. He sat back jauntily, signature smirk plastered across his face as he folded his arms across his bare chest. He was very good a projecting an aura of disinterest, and if it weren't for the obvious contradiction of his erection Astoria may have harbored doubts at the effectiveness of her plan. She let her own simper cross her delicate features as she silently admitted that despite being a washed up, stuck up, spoiled little brat, Draco Malfoy had yet to fail to be interesting. Or horny. _The two most important qualities in a man_, she thought.

"Well, if you decide to change your mind," she responded with a nonchalant shrug, causing her black robe to slide off her boney shoulders and pool at her feet, "I'll be on the buffet table."

She turned her aristocratic nose away sharply and walked coyly to her bedroom. There was of course no doubt that he would follow. But Astoria couldn't deny that her scheme was already turning out much more enjoyable than she originally figured. She assumed it would all feel like work, and anticipated having to suppress an innate disgust of seducing a man she deplored. She knew she would struggle against Draco's cockiness on his inclination that he was desired by her yet again, and would have to tell herself it would all be worth it in the end to get through it.

Yet she felt a rush of excitement as she heard the rasp of her chair being scooted back and the creaks of the floorboards as he headed her way. A chill fell down her spine as he found her in the dark, wrapping his arms around her hips from behind. She felt his hot prick press firmly against her backside as his mouth claimed her neck. She didn't have to force herself to roll her head to the side as he swirled his tongue around the sensitive areas on the base of her shoulders. She released a broad smile into the darkness as his hands began to roam across her body, and it wasn't just because she had been able to tuck her wand between the sheets before Draco had had enough time to come and see.

She remained still for a few moments, allowing him to get his fill of rolling his hands indulgently down her body. As a man used to instant gratification, he skived straight to her most intimate and womanly areas, grasping and fingering to his own pleasure as his arms pinned her up against his chest. She let out a moan she would normally suppress, encouraging and pleading him for more. He seemed to instinctively know where most of her hot spots were, and discovered more of them during his hasty exploration. But instead of softening her malicious vendetta, his sensual touches only furthered her aggravation. It proved that he was definitely a man who knew what he was doing, making his recent conduct all the more unforgivable.

Astoria spun around quickly and smashed her lips into his to keep from crying out in premature rage. She tapped into her reserve of angered arousal to kiss him passionately. He responded with his own deep moan, clutching her tight as they furthered their embrace. His hands clasped and swatted her supple backside, causing an unwitting response in her own body. As he grabbed his swollen cock in his own hands and slid it tantalizingly against her wet region, she knew she was running out of time.

Sensing she only had moments before he tossed her on the bed and ravished to his own delight, she pulled away quickly, falling to her knees and spiritually initiating the act she always tried to avoid.

"Fuck," he murmured, entangling his hands into her thick black hair. Astoria hated herself for reviling in the passionate mix of subjugation and empowerment she felt upon sucking him off. She liked the way he stroked her face and how he instinctively made little thrusts into her mouth even though he seemed set on enjoying having her do all the work. She rubbed his shaft with her right hand and placed her left on his abdomen, pushing him gently yet determinedly on to the bed. Draco followed without further coercion.

"Nag about men all you want, Greengrass," he sputtered between gasps. "But you can't deny how much you love dick. Or at least just mine."

Astoria fought the urge to bite down on him as she repositioned herself on the bed. She continued to run her mouth over his prick, swirling her tongue over its sensitive end between hearty blows. She worked past her small desire to continue working on him fully and focused her eyes up on his body. He seemed extremely relaxed, fully laid back with one hand draped across his face as the other ran her textured hair through his fingers. She watched intently as she worked him, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Finally, after a particularly deep throating , Draco gasped and rubbed his flustered face with both hands, momentarily leaving them behind his head as he stretched out.

Bingo.

"_Incarcerous!_" she exclaimed, grabbing her wand that lay hidden in the bedding and pointing it determinedly above Draco's head. In a flash a thick rope wrapped around his wrist and tied him forcefully to her headboard.

"What the fuck!" Draco screamed, struggling forcefully against his restraints as he kicked violently. Astoria rolled over and watched him squirm for her own delight before casually stretching out onto her side and leaning over him nonchalantly.

"What the bloody fuck do you think you are doing?" he demanded fiercely, tugging against the binds in vain.

"Helping you redeem yourself," she responded, reaching out to stroke his cock gingerly. Luckily, the sudden start hadn't rendered him flaccid. In fact, the upset seemed to have hardened him further, to where once again it resembled properties of stone.

"What are you talking about? Let me go!" Draco's haughty grey eyes flashed with pangs of rage and fear. Astoria kissed his lips tenderly before explaining.

"You came before me, despite knowing how close I was to my own climax. That was very poor bedroom edict," she stated seriously. Draco continued to try and free himself from his restraints, but refrained from uttering a comeback. A harrowing look crossed his pointed features as he slowly uncovered his predicament.

"I was just going to toss you out violently, but decided to be merciful and give you one more chance at delivering upon an unspoken promise."

"You're a crazy bitch!" he exclaimed, rattling the headboard with his futile attempts at escape.

"That may be true," Astoria reasoned with a slight leer. "But this is what you have gotten yourself into. Now, I'm going to lay out the rules clearly and simply so there is no possible way your twisted mind can misconstrue them. You ejaculate before I come again, I leave you tied up."

Draco's eyes widened with fear, signaling to her that she took his threat seriously.

"Now," she stated, straightening up and turning away from him as she straddled his torso. "Be a good boy and this won't be nearly as painful as it could be."

"Fuck you!" he growled, but he instantly slid his knees up for her to grab as he unearthed her desired position. Astoria hopped on her feet and grabbed his prick up straight in her hands, feeling the stiff member pulse readily. She slowly lowered herself on to its wide tip, guiding the end into her readied opening. It was a bit of a struggle to do by herself, and she could hear Draco scoffing vindictively behind her. But soon enough she was able to slide his massive length inside her, and she let out a groan of satisfaction as she felt the piercing sensation fill her. She rode him roughly, bouncing on him thoroughly as she kept to her feet and slipped on and off him. It was a messy yet incredibly gratifying position at any rate, and his forced subjugation just added to her pleasure. Although she had intentionally situated herself away from his face, she knew Draco was reeling in the throws as well. He kept his legs firmly bent, offering his angled knees as a rest of support. She could hear little suppressed grunts as she pushed herself up and down him. The style gave him a perfect view of his cock sliding in and out of her, and she was certain that such a show coupled with a view of her coveted arse would keep him more than intrigued.

And, for some unknown reason, the way he curled his toes so they dug deeply into her mattress was one of the sexiest sights she had ever seen.

It wasn't long before she felt her walls begin to shake, signaling her impending release. As she felt her climax encroach ever closer it became more difficult to maintain the dominate position she held over him and she began to lose her balance. Draco picked up the slack by arching his hips and thrusting in concert with her rhythms. After a few decisive thrusts Astoria let out a loud moan, feeling her hard earned pleasure wash over her body. She slowed her tempo as she rode through her orgasm, collapsing over Draco's bent knees upon completion.

They remained in that position for an odd moment, Astoria still filled with him as she rested against his legs. Still elated in the aftermath of her climax, she barely registered the sound of rope sliding quickly off the headboard. The binding spell had worn off after the job had been complete.

"YOU'RE DEAD!" Draco exclaimed. He quickly straightened out his legs and grabbed her waist roughly with his newly freed hands. He pushed her off of him and threw her towards the end of the bed, flipping her over to face him as he swiftly pinned her down. He had a furious, malicious look in his eyes. His whole body was tensed up and it was clear he was out for revenge.

But despite the fact that she was now wandless and at the complete mercy of a man she had just full taken advantage of; a man with few scruples and who had proven he was not above torture, Astoria didn't care. Her legs still shook from the experience and her mind continued to shoot out waves of endorphins. All she could think about was how great the whole thing had been, and couldn't help but beam up at the vengeful face that hovered dangerously above her.

This look of near gratitude had not been what Draco had expected. Moments ago he wanted nothing more than to reduce her body to a pile of welts and curse marks. How dare she pull a stunt like that! How dare she try to punish and take advantage of him! He would demand fear and remorse, and needed for her to scream out in terror at his revenge.

He didn't want to see her grin so slyly at him, or feel her small but heaving tits bump up against his chest. Those things distracted him from his rage, and he was intent on punishing her full force. He quickly threw one of his hands up against her neck to choke her, keeping her arms pinned down with his free hand. _Let's see how cocky you are when you can't breathe,_ he thought. Draco started choking her lightly and she let out a gasp. But it wasn't a sobbing expression of panic, but one of pleasure. He felt his member twitch in excitement.

"Fuck," he muttered in exasperation. It wasn't working. Perhaps he needed to choker her harder, crush her windpipe, and then she'd know he was serious. Then she'd cry out in horror like she was supposed to. Yet his hard grip on her instead manifested itself into massaging her neck roughly, cupping her square jaw with a squeeze before descending back down. He bypassed her windpipe again and let his hand fall down to her swollen breast. He felt her pert ends rub against his fingers, causing her to release another moan. She arched her hips in response, lightly grazing against his hot prick. Draco felt himself grow drunk with desire.

"Fuck!" he repeated, both in anger and submission to his more pressing longing . He released his grip on her arms and sat up on his knees. He quickly grabbed her legs and slid her over to him without a struggle. He made sure she continued to lay on her back as he spread her thighs apart. He caught a brief look at her euphoric face before plunging into her.

He hated her. Hated this inexplicable hold she had on him. She was rude, abrasive and defiant in public; manipulative and domineering in private. She was a fraud and a far throw from the type of woman he had been brought up to fancy. And yet despite her manipulations and insulting actions of the night (and past nights, for sure) Draco couldn't help himself. He didn't want to want her, hated how much he didn't hate her and felt like a lifetime upbringing of being reserved and suppressive was all for naught; he couldn't control his desire. All he could do was pin her down roughly on the bed and take out his frustrations by slamming his narrow hips into hers, cursing her very existence with snide murmurs as her moans washed over him.

He felt her arch her back and raise her hips, panting rhythmically with his furious thrusts. She didn't need to release a deep, raspy groan for him to know she was close. Steadying his movements while maintain his speed, he focused his attentions to insure her preferred degree of penetration was kept. She wriggled and grunted against his weight, sliding her nails down his back in frantic patterns. The moment she started desperately calling his name he knew he had her, and he felt his own spasms dance across his abdomen as he too approached release. He bent over her, crushing his weight on to her body as he released his final thrusts with vigor. Astoria ran her fingers through his fine hair as she whimpered in delight.

"Astoria," he groaned, burying his head in to the crook of her neck as he slowed his speed to expel his own release. She clutched him tightly to her as he finished, stroking his head as he let out his final gasp.

They lay dormant in that position for a few moments. Draco could both feel and hear her racing pulse as his head remained nestled into hers. She let out a few residual moans as she absentmindedly stroked his hair with one hand as the other draped firmly across his back. Draco had to drag himself out of the comfort of the embrace as he struggled with the conflicting thoughts that clouded his mind.

"I presume that makes us more than even," he stated with a growl into her ear. The reverberation caused her to shudder pleasantly.

"I suppose so," she replied, mirroring his sly smirk. His eyes brightened at her nonchalant comment for the briefest of moments before he dipped down and kissed her one last time. Astoria received it willingly, both knowing that when he pulled away their intimate moment would be severed. She felt an inexplicable pang of sadness when he quit the kiss and rolled off of her.

The two of them laid in a strangely comfortable silence, on their backs and bare as her bedding had been kicked to the floor. They both fought the encompassing exhaustion brought on by their actions and the late hour. Both had an idea floating in their heads, one which they thought better than to express. Draco particularly struggled. He wasn't sure of what he wanted, how he wanted, or even why, he just knew he did. He knew he wanted, knew he shouldn't, and knew that slowly time was running out on doing something about it.

Astoria's thought process wasn't anywhere near as complicated. She knew what she wanted, knew it lay right next to her, and all she had to do was reach out and grab it. She had told herself no, that she would not take part in that desire. She didn't want to be ruled by it. Yet, this night had been crazy and unexpected, and surely she could not be faulted for succumbing to true temptation.

Her thought process worked out, Astoria rolled on to her side without shame, ruffled through her bedside table, and pulled out her last pack of cigarettes and a clean ash tray. _Just what I needed,_ she thought as she inhaled the addicting scent and searched out her wand.

"Are you kidding me with this?" Draco inquired, a look of disbelief splashed across his face.

"What?" she asked with slightly irritated defiance as she lit the end.

"This whole bloody mess _started_ because you said you were quitting," he pointed out in annoyance.

"So?" she stated, cocking an eyebrow. Draco let out an exasperated scowl.

"You're fucking mad, do you know that?" he exclaimed. "All the shit you do is completely mental. And your last stunt…"

Draco paused as he rubbed his wrists. Astoria saw the raw skin accented with burns and scrapes stemming from his struggle.

"I should rip you apart for that," he finished quietly. Astoria contemplated that for a moment. She hadn't really taken into account what he would do after she completed her humiliating revenge. In retrospect she noted she should have been more prepared. He had been infuriated, and he could have very easily and effectively hurt her. But even as she thought of that she knew he never would. He was afraid of her in a way that merited his respect. And, in a way, he had earned some of her own.

"Well, lucky for me you're far hornier than you are vengeful," she replied flippantly as she put out her cig. She quickly riffled back through her drawer and pulled out some healing balm and handed it to him. Draco eyed her suspiciously before taking it and rubbed it on to his wrists. The burns vanished on contact.

Draco stared at his smooth skin for a moment as though in deep contemplation. Astoria watched him struggle strangely and furrowed her brow. Finally he stopped staring at his wrist and put down his arm, moving his gaze down to his lap.

"We should do this again," he stated softly but in a clear voice.

"I agree. Tying you up seems do have done wonders…"

"No," he interrupted firmly, cutting off her joke without malice or humor. "I mean this. Meet up, shag, all that."

"Why?" Astoria responded without thinking. An ugly look cross Draco's face, causing her to expand further. "I mean, I'm free for the first time in my life, why would I want to complicate things with a relationship?"

"Who the fuck said anything about a relationship?" Draco demanded. "I'm talking about sex. We're good together, why not keep doing it?"

Astoria stared at him strangely for a moment, not really getting what he was doing. This was Draco Malfoy. In school he had his pick of girls, older, younger, all pretty and all willing. Why was he looking to secure her as a shag? Except…

"I'm not going to sit around waiting for one of the few nights you can escape the Manor and hope you swing by to fuck me," she stated coolly, figuring he was looking to secure a sure thing when he was able to get out.

"Don't flatter yourself," he stated seriously. "You'd hardly be the only thing I'd do when I get out. But, yes… I do suffer from _temporary_ time restraints. But I figured you of all people would appreciate trying to fit a reliable shag on a restricted schedule. Wouldn't you rather _know _that the bloke you were with would get you off so you don't have to waste your energy tying them up and forcing it out of them?"

"Or whacking them in the head with a frying pan," she replied softly.

"What was that?" he asked.

"I said I see your point," she said. Draco looked at her suspiciously before rolling off the bed. She watched his lithe frame in the moonlight as he bent over and collected his belongings.

"It was just a suggestion," he shrugged, pulling up his trousers. "I figured it was worth asking because you're the type of girl that's good in bed and won't bring about any complications."

Astoria thought that over. That was why she never did repeats. She didn't want anyone trying to invade her life and she wasn't interested into walking into someone else's. Her needs of sexual desire and human companionship were easily satiated and she preferred to spend most of her time alone. She didn't want a boyfriend in her life to distract her from her work or to push her into a role she didn't want to play.

But Draco had a point. She found him obnoxious, whiny and spoiled, traits she would never find attractive and characterizations she actively avoided. Yet, despite that, he did have the ability to overcome his short comings and be pleasant enough to take in small doses. And he _definitely _learned not to underestimate her. That gave way to some short term compatibility.

And besides, even if they did get close, she didn't have to worry about him upturning her life. They could never be together. They both had been raised in a society that demanded purity. They both had suffered at varying degrees because of this mantra, and still to this day struggled with it. And though Draco was once at the top of this hierarchy and still commanded some respect, and Astoria had all but escaped such a lifestyle, the fact was they were still both ruled by it. Draco could never be with a girl who secretly had a Muggle grandfather, and Astoria never once in her life harbored an inclination that a man like Draco would ever overcome her "disability". That much they both actively understood. And actually admitting that cleared her to accept the notion that occasionally spending time with Draco, the majority of which would be spent fucking, wasn't such a deplorable idea. In fact, it allowed her room to actually admit felt something akin to liking the bastard. The inherent boundaries of their relationship left her free to indulge. Draco was safe.

"Okay," she agreed with a casual shrug. Draco stopped buttoning his shirt to stare at her, making sure he heard her right.

"Really?" he asked in suspicion.

"Sure. I'm going to do whatever I want, when I want to do it. But having you on retainer will make life a little easier. But I'm not just going to toss my life aside when you're horny, I have a job and other work I need to do. You can swing by or send an owl, but don't always expect."

"I'll try to contain my disappointment," he sneered, slipping on his shoes. "You can send me an owl too, I expect, but same ground rules. And don't get all pissy if you see me with other girls, that's not what this is about."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she asked with a yawn, throwing her head back against her pillow as her need to sleep got the better of her. Draco walked to the foot of her bed and grabbed the fallen blankets, running them slowly over her naked body and tucking her in gently. A strange pang of sentiment hit her at the small gesture, and her cocky simper melted into a thoughtful smile as he smoothed the sheets.

"I work late the next couple of evenings, but I should be free Thursday night, say ten o'clock?" she suggested.

"Make sure you're well rested," he commanded. "I'll expect the best if you know in advance." He cut off any comeback she could deliver with a quick kiss. He pulled away swiftly and walked out the door without any further goodbye. Astoria rolled on her side and tried to get to sleep. She wanted to work on a new formula for her idea or go straight to bed, but all she could do was shamefully recall his curled toes, firm embrace and look forward to Thursday night.

_This is going to be obnoxious._


	7. Memories: First Imperssions

_Memories: First Impressions_

_Even eleven year olds can recognize a life changing event_. Up until that point Astoria's pentacle moment had been successfully standing up to her mother on matters of differing fashion opinions without having to succumb to fits of tantrums. Though she was thoroughly proud of such an accomplishment she was eager for something more substantial, and she eagerly awoke that early September morning to embark on a new stage of life. Hogwarts had been a mystical place only experienced through the letters and stories of her beloved sister and detested cousin. Ever since she could remember she had dreamt of escaping her mother's over barring grasp to that sanctuary of magic and education. She was so excited she had actually smiled that summer.

She was therefore all the more irritated as she traversed the Great Hall that first time due to how poorly her first school moments had transpired.

The day had started off as expected. Her mother strayed about the manor fretfully, shrieking at the house elves to make sure all of her and Daphne's supplies were in order. Her sister teetered about nervously, anxious about change as always, despite returning to a place she readily called home once she settled in. Helios' large frame had remained hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet for the most part that morning. He would not be traveling with them to the train station, as was tradition, and Astoria half expected he wouldn't realize his charges had gone off to school until Christmas, when his wife would announce she was going to pick them up. This being the usual case, she was very nearly shocked when he approached her standing over her trunk in the foyer, waiting for her sister and mother to find Daphne's misplaced wand. With hardly a word he handed her a small purse filled with coins. It wasn't much, but her mother had never allowed either of them with their own spending money, and was therefore all the more surprising.

"Do well," he stated gruffly in a quasi command.

"Yes sir," she replied diligently, still shocked at the gesture. The ends of his mouth nearly flickered up into a smile, and he patted her recently scrubbed head like one would a dog before retreating back into his office. She felt a lukewarm affection glimmer in her heart at the acknowledgement, but she was still quick enough to stash the coins before her mother rounded the hall.

The journey to Platform 9¾ was more insufferable than usual. Her mother scolded and lectured neurotically against offenses Astoria had never even dreamed of committing. She continued her fussing all the way to the platform, constantly smoothing down Daphne's frazzled hair and complaining about how Astoria's dress didn't fit properly.

"It's just not lying across the waist like it should," her mother bothered irately, tugging on the fabric to Astoria's contempt. "You need to grow hips!"

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," Astoria snapped back. "Let go of me, I want to get on the train!" She struggled to get out of her mother's grip, yet Phoebe held on tightly. Astoria stared up fiercely at her mother, ready for a final combat before leaving. Yet was once again she was caught off guard. Her mother's eyes were glazed with tears, taking Astoria even further aback than Helios' gift.

"My baby," her mother murmured with a sob.

Phoebe Greengrass seemed just as startled by her emotional reaction as was her youngest daughter. She quickly released her half embracing hold and saved face by clearing her own dress.

"Be good, and for Merlin's sake watch your mouth. Your future husband is most likely on this train and you want to make a good first impression," Phoebe snapped, before turning dramatically on her heel and walking away without another word. Astoria was left standing in shock, realizing she didn't know her family quite as well as she thought she did, and as she stood just outside the door to the train, she worried for the first time that she might actually miss her parents.

"Move it grease ball!"

An ear piercing shriek and a quick shove stole Astoria away from her family sentiment. Pansy stood behind her with a bossy sneer plastered on her face.

"Your mum asked me to watch out for you," Pansy taunted, further herding her on the train.

"Get bent!" Astoria shot back in frustration as her irritation mounted. Any further badgering was drowned out by the sheer chattering and the motion about the train. Pansy grasped Astoria's wrist and practically flung her into a compartment. Daphne was already sitting there calmly, looking placidly at the moving scenery. Pansy settled in and was quickly enveloped in summer gossip with two rather dull witted but shiny looking housemates. Their shallow comments and self absorbed stories were the last things Astoria wanted to hear, but she didn't know anyone else on the train, and was at least happy to be in the company of her sister.

Her cousin and her friends soon left to go find someone, and the sisters were left in peace. Astoria once again found the excitement and anticipation of the school year course through her veins. She changed into her school robes and tried to pull more information about Hogwarts from her sister. Daphne indulged her once again in the questions she had been asked repeatedly all summer, giving the same broad answers that brought up more inquires than they answered, most of which Daphne couldn't reply to. Still, Astoria was happy. She remained in good humor even when her cousin returned. Pansy was notably distraught and more irritated than normal. Astoria amused herself by half listening to her complain about someone who would rather spend time hanging out with two stupid brutes than to sneak off with her into the storage compartments. Her cousin's unhappiness actually placed her into a better mood, making Astoria think that nothing could go wrong.

Until the lights started to flicker, and all of the world's cheer seemed to be sucked away from her very soul.

What Astoria recognized as a Dementor passed by their compartment, headed straight to the back. Though she only caught a brief glimpse of its shadowy robes, she felt drained, terrified, and inconsolably lonely. The Dementor's presence soon faded, but its affects were still tangible. Pansy and her cronies all shrieked and ran out of their compartment. Astoria still struggled with a bitter loneliness and a feeling worthlessness.

She quickly pushed aside these feelings of depression and anxiety as she realized her sister was crying uncontrollably. Astoria was at full attention, wanting to help, but felt unprepared to soothe. All she could do was sit tall and firm as Daphne threw herself into her lap, stroking her frizzy hair protectively.

Daphne was still in no condition to venture off alone when the train stopped at the station, and Astoria was fully set on remaining by her side. She was therefore extremely irked when a large, booming voice insistently called after her.

"Firs' years, firs' years over here with me! You, come now little miss, on to the boat with you," the deep, slightly shaky, but still overall friendly voice ordered. Astoria turned to the giant man who had called her out, staring up into the sky at him defiantly.

"I'm not leaving my sister!" she replied stubbornly. The towering man raised his eyebrows, causing them to get lost in his unruly hair. He then laughed good naturedly at the little girl who was smaller than his right arm who glared at him so fiercely.

"I promise you she'll be fine, her housemates will take care of her, and you'll see her again soon. As for now I need you to get on the boat."

The man walked over and picked her up gently, lifting her above the crowd and placing her on an otherwise full boat before she could struggle in protest. The other passengers looked just as shaken up and forlorn as she had felt earlier. They all looked at her in a strange reverence, as she seemed irritated and belligerent rather than scared. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her anger, she might have noticed that her outraged emotional state was actually an immense comfort to those who rode with her, as they no longer felt that despair and meekness were the only things that existed.

In fact, Astoria missed a lot of things that night. She barely took in the marvelous view of the castle. She held no reverence for the impressive magic that surrounded them. This could have been a time of sentimental bonding with her classmates. After all, she was going to spend the next seven years of her life with them. But all she could do was fume, and she glared menacingly if anyone tried to strike up a conversation with her.

It wasn't until they stood in line to be sorted that it all sank in. She was at Hogwarts. She was about to be placed in her House. As the shabby hat called out for Julian Fitzgerald she realized her turn was quickly coming. She had always just assumed she'd be placed in Slytherin, in fact there was no doubt in her mind. She had no fear of the unknown when it came to where she would be sorted. What was distressing was she had just raged out and missed out on an experience she had been waiting for her whole life.

The realization just made her angrier.

"ASTORIA GREENGRASS!" the hat called loudly. Astoria stomped up to the stool, furious with herself, and slammed the hat over her head.

"_Hmmmm…very interesting,"_ the hat mused.

"What?" Astoria demanded sharply. The hat chuckled.

"_You. You are very interesting,"_ the Sorting Hat repeated glibly. "_An extremely capable and agile mind. You are recklessly absorbed, terribly prudent, remarkably cunning and resourceful… there is of course no question of where to place you…except…"_

"Except what_?" _she fumed angrily. The hat merely hummed again.

"For Merlin's sake, will you just sort me and get it the hell over with? I'm tired of you being in my head. Spit out what you want to say or I'm ripping you off my head and tossing you into the fire!"

"_Your father,"_ the hat stated simply.

"What about him?" Astoria ordered, conjuring up an image of the burly man handing her the coin purse earlier that morning.

"_You and I both know that's wrong,"_ the hat mocked. "_I can see one of your greatest desires is to escape your father's house. I'd hate for you to blame me for being the one who actually put you there."_

"What are you talking about?" Astoria asked, apprehension slipping into her thoughts for the first time. The hat tightened its grip around her head and turned it slowly towards the staff table. Some of the teachers were talking lazily to one another, having seen the sorting ceremony more times than they cared to count. A few were staring at her with a casual interest, her sorting running on the long side of average. One face however seemed to be rigidly fixed upon hers. It was a pallid face, with a strong jaw and long, greasy black hair. Her fiery green eyes locked on to his stone black ones. As the life changing realization struck her, she felt like all the air had been sucked out of her lungs.

"_So, you see my moral predicament now, don't you?"_ the hat asked with a rough chuckle. "_After all, you always have a choice…"_

Choice? What choice? She had never been given a choice in her life, let alone been told she was entitled to one. However, the glorified scrap garment on her head appeared to be sincere in his offer to shield her from likely unpleasantness.

It was almost tempting.

But at eleven years old Astoria was tired of being sheltered, sick of other people claiming they knew what was best for her. The bloody hat, in its own way, was right. She did have a choice. Try and hide and fade into the background, or deal with the unpleasantness of reality and somehow gather the strength and knowledge it took to get what she really wanted. It was imperative that she be placed in the proper house in order for her to do the best she could, for even then knew she had to make it on her own.

"Do whatever the fuck you want," she responded to the hat flippantly.

"_Alright then, better make it…_SLYTHERIN!"

Astoria ripped the hat off her head, ready to have the accursed mind reader as far away from her as possible. She ignored the loud applause given to her by her new housemates, and angrily jammed the hat back on its pedestal. This merited a few laughs from the other tables as they misread her discontent.

"I'd be pissed off too if I got placed in Slytherin," a loud red head called out from one of the distant tables. Astoria shot him the most disdainful look she could muster. The caller grimaced playfully in response, and nudged his carbon copy of a twin into winking at her.

She sat down next to her sister, who looked much better, especially now that they were in the same House. She tried to concentrate on the sorting, her food, the obnoxious reenactment of someone who apparently fainted on the train, anything but those piercing black eyes. She almost managed to make it through the Headmaster's speech without veering her head. But alas, her impulses as always got the best of her, and she turned. He was already staring at her stoically. His face was strange yet familiar all at once.

She had occasionally wondered who her father was, but never dreamed she would ever actually meet him, let alone that he would be one of her professors _and_ the head of her House.

The irony was so absurd it almost made her laugh. Almost.

_**(A/N: More of an actual update soon. I plan on having a few of these "flashback" chapters throughout the story, as Astoria and Snape's relationship is a big part of the plot. The next chapter is already more than half written and should be up soon. Sorry for the delay, and I hope you liked this!)**_


	8. Misdirected Jubilance & Undue Adoration

Misdirected Jubilance and Undue Adoration

"Astoria?" a concerned voice called out, shaking her out of her self-inflicted trance. Her eyes snapped quickly downward to her blonde haired addresser.

"What?" she asked, perhaps a bit shaper than deemed necessary. She cleared her throat steadily and dulled the edge off her voice. "What is it, Cheri?"

"It's just you looked so strange! Almost like you wanted to cry and laugh at the same time! I've never seen you express so much emotion. Is there something you need to talk about?" her coworker asked ardently.

Astoria rolled her eyes. She had worked less than a dozen shifts with Cheri Madison over the last few weeks, but the wide hipped, bubbly eyed girl was keen on taking interest in Astoria in a manner she herself reserved only for…well, no one.

They were both hired on as reference librarians at the Library of the Ministry at the same time. The Library of the Ministry was the largest collection of magical books in the world, carrying at least one copy of nearly every book ever published. Its resources and atmosphere had been very attractive to Astoria. During slow times she was able to do research for her potions, and she was able to spend most of her time avoiding the service aspect of her job by opting to return books to the shelves.

Cheri could also be liberally labeled an academic; she was certainly intelligent. But her interested lay not in the logic and reason of science but in the absurdity of the human mind, and she was embarking on the futile quest of trying to help others. She was studying to become a Psychological Healer, and her goal in life was to help people cope through the trauma inspired by the war.

It was a pathetically noble and useless goal in Astoria's mind, especially as she placed no weight in psychology. Astoria couldn't in her wildest imagination see how dragging out painful and personal memories could be helpful. What was done was done, what was the use in talking about it? To make matters worse Cheri seemed to have found a pet project in her coworker, and was determined to, as she so obnoxiously put it, "turn her frown upside down".

Normally such interest in her personal life would be quickly squashed with a few of her signature loathing looks and some strategically formed harsh words. But Cheri was somehow cheerfully immune to such attacks. She bounced around the reference area smiling constantly. Without fail she asked Astoria how her day was going, refusing to settle for a mere "fine", and patiently awaited deeper divulgence. No snide comment Astoria could make would get her to leave her alone.

The most irritating aspect about this unfortunate situation was Astoria seemed to be building up some sort of tolerance to her obnoxiously cheerful peer. Though she still vehemently expressed to Cheri that she channel her misdirected jubilance elsewhere, Astoria couldn't help but admit that the short, doe-eyed blonde wasn't the worst person in the world to work with. Cheri pulled her weight and then some, happily stepping in when she noticed Astoria getting irritated over a particularly stupid inquiry. She was extremely well read and intuitive, and they had had rather pleasant discussions on more than one occasion. She was defiantly much more likeable than the third reference worker, that sleazy and good for nothing Neil Pratchett.

Such reflection on her feelings towards Cheri caused an unusual stab of guilt in her usually unflappable conscious. Perhaps she should get over her anti-social behavior and actually establish a friendship. Life away from home and the near total absence of her mother's presence had caused a great increase in her happiness. She was working towards complete independence and a breakthrough in her potion, only had to deal with her disagreeable family about once a week, and thanks to her recent agreement, was well laid. There was no reason to shy away from agreeable company if it so happened to be in the proximity. Why not make an actual friend for once?

"Barry Buttons!"

"Cherry Cheri!"

That was why.

Astoria rolled her eyes in obvious disgust as Cheri's absurdly tall boyfriend rounded the reference desk to sweep her up in a dramatic hug. The couple was so sickeningly cute Astoria had to suppress her need to vomit. Pet names, longing looks, a constant desire to be around another; the whole idea was suffocating. As Cherry and Buttons indulged each other on the happenings that had occurred in their four hour separation, Astoria turned herself away and found sanctuary in the unlikely place of helping out a researcher.

"Hey Astoria," a curly haired brunette expressed breathlessly as she returned a good kilogram of books.

"Hey Hermione," Astoria responded familiarly. "How's the research going?"

"Oh, never ending," Hermione answered with a forced strain, as though she had been taught that spending countless hours in a library was supposed to be a bad thing. Astoria let the ends of her lips flicker upwards into a smile.

"Still off trying to free the house elves, eh?" she asked humorously.

"Yes, but we've hit a bit of a snag. It mostly has to do with money. There is only so much the Ministry budget can allow us, but we need more. We've been receiving some small donations, but we can't seem to get any real substantial funds," she explained.

"Probably because anyone with money has an elf and doesn't want to let it go," Astoria suggested, waving her wand across Hermione's returned books so they sorted themselves neatly on the return cart.

"I know. That's one thing were working on, campaigning to wealthy Purebloods to change their treatment of them." Hermione's eyes flickered quickly over Astoria, causing her to laugh ironically.

"You're barking up the wrong Pureblood. If you haven't noticed I'm working fulltime in a library and living in a closet," she pointed out.

"I know!" Hermione stated quickly. "But I was wondering if perhaps you had any _advice_ for how to convince your family and others in their social circles to treat the house elves like living sentient beings?"

"No," Astoria responded instinctively, chuckling lightly at the absurdity of the question. Hermione's jaw clinched at the reaction. Astoria quickly changed her face and jumped back into the conversation.

"The only way you can change anything those people do is with a well enforced law that threatens their money. Believe me, I've spent most of my life fighting against some of their intuitions. That's why I'm trying so hard to leave," she explained.

"Oh," Hermione replied, looking both apologetic and a little worn. Astoria watched the heroine sigh as she adjusted her bag. Astoria liked Hermione. She was incredibly intelligent, admittedly more so than she was on some topics. She was also brave, and stepped past what was expected of her as a Muggleborn into her own arena. Even her present venture was somewhat admirable, although Astoria didn't really care one way or the other about house elves. Hermione could have floated along the rest of her life living off being one of the saviors of the magical world and yet still she continued to fight to make it a more egalitarian place. That made her win one of Astoria's most conservative attributes; her respect.

"Here," Astoria said quickly, grabbing her pocket book. She reached in and emptied out the last of her coin purse on to the table. Hermione looked at the small pile in surprise.

"It's not much because it's the end of the pay week, but I figure you seem desperate enough to take it," Astoria stated off handedly. Hermione's brown eyes widened in surprise.

"This is brilliant!" she exclaimed, pulling out a large jar from her small bag and scooping the change inside.

"Let's just say I had a house elf that cleaned up more than my messes," Astoria said, thinking back to all the times Bluebonnet had kept things from the rest of the family. "Besides, I'd give up everything I owned to watch my mother mop her own floors."

Astoria let herself relish in the image of her mother failing miserably at casting her own cleaning spells until she noticed the strange look on Hermione's face. She seemed to be struggling with something, like she too wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, as Cheri had accused herself of earlier.

"What is it?" Astoria asked, completely in the dark over Hermione's emotional response.

"It's just…refreshing," the eloquent girl was finally able to spit out. "The hardest part about this whole issue is getting people to overcome their prejudice and apathy, and…"

"I really wouldn't read too much into this. That's not even a Galleon worth of Sickles and Knuts, and I'm not signing anything," Astoria assured. Hermione seemed undeterred.

"I know. It's just encouraging to get some support from someone like… someone with a family who has house elves. There's been a real lag in progress recently, and your donation has been very encouraging," Hermione praised. Astoria cocked an eyebrow, unsure of how to handle this undue admiration.

"I could really care less about the house elves, it's no skin off my back what happens to them," Astoria glowered. "However, you are one of the few people in this world who can actually hold an intelligent thought, and it's worth my spare change to ensure you get to a place where you're in charge of _something_. Merlin knows we have enough useless people running things now."

Amazingly, Hermione smiled at Astoria's comment, dissecting the buried but sincere compliment hidden under exaggerated discontent.

"Well cheers anyhow," Hermione offered with a laugh. "I don't suppose you'd want a button pin for the cause?"

"Not unless you want me to scratch my eyes out with it," Astoria responded coolly, lazily reverting to an old potions article she had been reading. Hermione laughed again.

"See you next week," she said with a wave, grabbing her loaded bag off the floor and heading to the exit.

"Good luck on your hopeless cause," Astoria called out with an insuppressible grin, shaking her head in amusement. It amazed her what people got themselves wrapped into. She was glad her life was now focused on nothing else besides actual prudent work instead of battling ridiculous social issues.

"That was very sweet of you, Astoria," Cheri said coyly. "Helping out Hermione, admitting you like her…"

"Save it Cherry Pit," Astoria demanded curtly. "I'm not interested in your internal nonsense."

"I'm just pointing out it doesn't kill you to be nice," she continued.

"Obviously it does, because you're boring me to death as we speak," Astoria responded flippantly, checking the time with a wince. She quickly rose from her chair and darted for her pocketbook.

"Where are you going in such a rush? Its barely even seven," Cheri inquired.

"I'm late for an engagement," Astoria responded vaguely, gathering up the pages of her article and stuffing them carefully in her bag.

"Oh," Cheri said, slightly put out. "Barry and I were hoping you'd come out with us! You always go straight home and never seem to want to hang out."

"I'm sure you can devour Barry's tongue just fine without me needing to be there to witness it," Astoria shot out distractedly.

"It wouldn't be like that," Cheri said quietly. "We could have some fun…"

Astoria caught a quick glance at the disappointed look on her coworker's face. The returned dull pang of guilt nearly stopped Astoria from rolling her eyes.

"Maybe some other time," she said off handedly as she rushed around the desk.

"Really? Oh how marvelous!" Cheri squeaked in excitement.

"I said maybe," Astoria tried to say strictly, but failed to keep in a laugh at Cheri's pure delight in the semi acceptance of her invitation.

"It will be great! And I promise Barry and I won't act too couple-y in front of you!"

"Like that's possible," Astoria said with a shake of her head as she quickly made her way towards the exit.

"Hope you have fun with your engagement. You seem so excited about it and so anxious not to be late!"

Astoria stopped in her tracks, all good humor drained from her face.

"I'm not excited!" she protested childishly. "It's just rude to be late, just like it's rude to stick your nose in other people's business!"

Cheri gave Astoria a wise smile.

"I'm sure he's very special, whoever he is," she stated calmly. A rage engulfed Astoria and she quickly marched out of sight.

What was going on recently?!? This is why she didn't like talking to people, because they nearly always insisted on talking back. Cheri refused to keep her insight to herself and they seemed to have at some point passed the stage where Astoria could easily shake her off. And how on earth had she managed to spark up a casual acquaintance with Hermione Granger of all people? They had met on Astoria's first day at work and she had found herself unusually impressed with the former Gryffindor. In fact, she could almost admit to herself that she looked forward to Hermione's frequent visits.

But what was really nagging at her once inflexible heart strings was the article she carried around with her. She had stumbled across it in her research for alternatives to the healing potions of Dittany. The best written piece on the subject was called _Weakness and Limitations to the Essence of Dittany_, which included its inability to heal scarring after a certain length of time and its low rate of effectiveness against some of the more intense spells. It was wonderfully researched and clearly argued.

It was also authored by Severus Snape.

It had taken her aback that that man had at one time written over the topic she found herself engrossed in. She was intensely and rightly disturbed by the coincidence. But she was also strangely sentimental about the whole ordeal, which was even more unnerving. She started caring the article around with her everywhere, reading it over and over again when she had the spare time. She had never put much thought into her relationship with him, but as she read his words she could hear his voice in her head clearly, as though he were reading it out during lecture. He had been her professor for five years and the head of her house for most of that time, but it still shook her how clearly and personally he stood out in his paper.

It had caused her to start thinking about her biological father more recently, and had triggered her flashback to her first encounter of him at Hogwarts.

Something in her life had changed her recently. She was much less angry than she ever remembered being. A part of that, she knew, was a decrease of her mother's leverage over her. But that was not it entirely, for Phoebe continued to find some lame excuse to get Astoria to go to some function or another at least once a week. She was interested and motivated in her work, but her experiment was still in theoretical stages, and she received no more pleasure from it at the moment than she did when she engaged in a particularly fascinating project in school.

Something else was causing an increase of happiness in her life, resulting in a slight change of mood and tolerance. But what it was, she couldn't quite put her finger on…

"What does it matter?" she asked herself suddenly, startling the old witch who walked beside her on the crowded street of Diagon Ally. She shook her head and ignored the quizzical glance thrown her way.

She had obviously had too much exposure to Cheri's idle chatter if she was asking herself questions like why she was feeling a certain way. Feelings just got in the way of things and should be ignored whenever possible.

She checked her watch again. She was definitely running late now. An impulse to jog the rest of the way home urged her on faster, and she quickly darted around the shoppers to her flat above the apothecary. She checked her reflection in the store windows, straightening out her windblown hair and clearing her skirt. She than nonchalantly rounded the corner and headed up the wooden staircase.

"You're late," an irritated voice accused her from atop the landing. Draco stood in front of her door, wrapped in his cloak and a silver scarf. The sun had nearly set, causing the early December weather to become uncomfortably chilly.

"So?" she demanded with as little care as she could muster as she trudged up the steps.

"So, I'm freezing my bollocks off and you were supposed to be home fifteen minutes ago!" he snapped with malice.

"I was at work and got kept by a researcher. Besides, no one is keeping you here," she pointed out as she opened the door. "You could have left at anytime."

"Or _you_ can just be on time instead of gossiping with that ditzy Cheri girl," Draco responded with a scowl, pushing himself past and into the warmth of her flat. They both ridded themselves of their coats in her living room. With one swift movement, Draco tossed his coat and scarf over the seat near the door, striating out his long sleeves as he did so.

"Hem hem," Astoria cleared her throat in sharp protest. Draco deepened his scowl and fitfully picked up his garments, hanging them up next to hers on the coat hooks on the wall.

"You always make such a big bloody deal about everything," he muttered as he turned towards the living room.

"I am neither your mother nor a house elf. I'm not picking up after you and I won't have you wrecking my clean home," she bantered back, though she had to struggle from smiling at his over exasperation.

He headed over to his usual spot on the couch with a shrug, leaping over the back in a graceful hop and landing comfortably in a nest of pillows. In the past three or so weeks that movement seemed to have permanently altered the mold of her sofa, as he reenacted it upon every visit. Normally the fact that her couch no longer seemed to fit her would have been a great spot of agitation, especially as it was due to his want of show. Yet she found it rather amusing in an odd sense, and as she rarely sat on the couch anyways, she held her tongue an indulged him his habit. 

Draco nestled into his preferred spot for a moment before relaxing completely, taking in a sweeping view of her flat.

"Bloody hell!" he exclaimed in utter shock, his body convulsing into a spasm as he looked out on to her terrace window.

Astoria grinned in satisfaction as he finally noticed her new alteration. She had combined her patio and a good chunk of dining room into a makeshift greenhouse, complete with glass panels that divided her new garden from her living room. This newly converted space was filled with rows of growing plants all kept at humid temperatures in the otherwise temperate climate. A portion of her ceiling had been blasted away and replaced with a cover that attracted and intensified the weak winter sun.

"What the blazes did you do?" Draco demanded, so awestruck he actually picked himself off the couch to move cautiously towards it.

"Ugh, you sound like my landlord," Astoria sighed indignantly. "I just did some adjustment, that's all."

"You turned half your flat into a bloody greenhouse!" he exclaimed.

"Just a quarter, thank you!" she corrected. "And I paid my deposit and read over my lease. As long as I put everything back the way it was before I leave they can't do anything."

"Why not just buy your potions ingredients like anyone else, you live right above the apothecary?!?" he moaned, taking a step inside to the vast botanical garden encroaching upon his couch space. "Or at least get them from a proper greenhouse. You know, one that is actually _outside_."

"Because then I run the risk of getting rubbish ingredients. I hardly have time to work on my experiments as is. Why lose further time? Besides, I want everything 100% controlled," she explained, stepping into the greenhouse with him. She bypassed him to grab a chipped flower pot holding a brown and weakly looking sprout.

"But I was here three days ago, and all of it was normal! All you had was the base for your first potion batch!" Draco continued to ramble on, as though trying to fight against the apparitions.

"And that's still here," she stated matter of factually, pointing to the bubbling cauldron off to the side. She turned away from him, carrying the sickly sprout around her small greenhouse as though giving it a tour. She even seemed to be muttering darkly to the rest of the plants. At a loss, Draco ran his fingers through his hair.

"Can't you do anything like a normal person?" he demanded as he watched her stalk around.

"Why would I?" she inquired, as she continued her round.

"This whole thing is kind of freaking me out," Draco admitted. "Why don't we just go to my town house? My father is out of town and… are you talking to your plants?" he asked, finally piecing her actions together.

"Technically I'm threatening them," she corrected. Draco stared at her in disbelief. His befuddlement of the situation was beginning to grind her nerves.

"Look," she began, indignant at his silent accusation of madness. "Researchers have shown that talking to your plants helps the growth process. There is a whole field based on it. I personally always thought it was a bunch of rubbish, but as you so clearly pointed out how makeshift this whole operation is, I figure it's worth a shot."

"So you're trying to get your plants to grow quicker by threatening them?" he asked slowly. Astoria shrugged.

"I figure in nature life reacts by instinct. The number one trait every organism shares is an active desire for survival. In other words, fear." She accentuated her point by standing in the middle of the room, holding her shabby plant high for all to see.

"I want all of you to see what will happen to you if you don't photosynthesize properly," she called out with a horse scowl. She then grabbed her wand and pointed at the feeble plant.

"_Incendio!"_ she proclaimed. The little plant immediately burst into flames. They both watched it glow in the fading evening light like a masochistic birthday candle, until it finally let itself out. Astoria than dropped the pot unceremoniously to the floor.

"Let that be a lesson to all of you," she said clearly, as she made her way over to a squat plant holding red flowers. It may have been the evening light playing tricks on her, but she could have sworn the plant tried to straighten out its posture. She plucked a single crimson petal of the germination.

"Just one should do the trick," she finished with a smirk, before she dropped it in her potion. The bubbling ceased immediately and the liquid turned a pale green before simmering pleasantly. Immensely pleased with herself, she covered the potion and turned her attention back to Draco with a smile.

He held a harsh and unreadable look upon his face.

"What?" she asked bluntly, though with a slight edge of trepidation.

"You are quite possibly the most unnerving lunatic I've ever met," he spat with a scowl. Astoria felt a bitter rage course through her veins at the statement.

"Yeah? And what are you going to do about it?" she snarled fiercely.

Draco stared at her silently for a few moments before taking two giant strides across the room. Before she had time to react, he had enveloped her mouth with his, practically crushing her with his grip. Enraged, she clinched her teeth down for a startling moment.

He tore away with a curse, almost throwing her to the floor in his efforts to distance them. She nearly stumbled in her heels but gracefully kept her feet. She quickly turned back to face him, ready to toss him out the end of the balcony. But when she met his gaze she was taken with his intense and lustful inflection. He breathed raggedly, and two tiny streams of blood trickled from his lips. She suddenly tasted the salty solution on the tip of her tongue, and the sensation shot a spark through her body.

In another quick movement she reached out to grab his face roughly. He managed to slip his hands around her waist first and pulled her in forcefully. She tugged on his messy lower lip, sucking at it without constraint until the bleeding stopped. He ground in to her with an intense thrust, and even through their robes she could feel him.

All of a sudden all the stress and anxiety of the day seemed to melt off her shoulders as he grabbed her thigh brutally. She softened her hold on his lip and instead slid her tongue in his mouth slowly. The bruising hold on her upper leg relaxed its grip and gently turned into a massage. They continued to kiss with vehemence, but it was no longer accentuated with the desire to destroy, but simply with that of desire. She eagerly shifted her weight as his hands slid themselves further up her thigh into the depths of her robes…

A sudden clang and a hot wave stole them from their moment. The lid on Astoria's cauldron had blown right open, and spurt of the pale green liquid flew from the container. It arched impressively before colliding with the floor. It was only due to Draco's quick reflexes that Astoria swept away from the rouge potion, and he managed to pull her aside just before the jet stream hit her boot. An acidic crackle filled the room as the liquid chewed through the floor.

Draco and Astoria looked at the Galleon sized hole in silent amazement for a few moments.

"I think perhaps you were a bit too persuasive with your plants to grow stronger," he remarked coolly, as though the potion had merely dribbled.

"I think it ate through the apothecary floor too," Astoria stated with a wince. This was not a positive property in a potion that eventually was meant to be applied on the skin.

Draco shrugged at her comment and lazily scooted a sitting plant over the hole, covering up the evidence in the store's ceiling.

"I supposed this batch is no good," she commented with a disappointed sigh. She moved her wand halfheartedly over the cauldron, causing the potion to vanish. Irritation and the frightening inklings of failure started to trickle into her mind set. Her stomach clinched and her heart started to beat erratically. What if she never got this right? What if she failed? What if her mother was right and she didn't have what it takes to make it on her own? Her pulse began to beat in panic.

"You're a complete and utter mental case, you know that," Draco said from a startlingly close nearness behind her. Astoria tightened up.

"So?" she demanded through gritted teeth as she fought back revealing tears.

"So," he repeated slyly, sliding his hands around her waist once more. She could still feel him pressed against her, and despite her state, couldn't help but smile.

"So, I think it's time we escape from this asylum and into a new theater," he hissed lightly, brushing his lips against her ear. Astoria smiled fully, whipping around quickly to catch him in another kiss.

Draco ignored the tear that splashed on to his cheek as he spun them out of her flat and Apparated them to his townhouse.

_**(**__**A/N: I know not too much happened in this chapter, but I hope you'll keep with me. This story has been requiring a lot of set up. Hopefully since you're still reading through chapter 8 the plot has carried you thus far. I promise you a lot is going to start happening. Hope you liked it!)**_


	9. Scars

Scars

The faint etchings of his inner left arm burned.

Not literally of course. He hadn't felt the searing pain that horrific connection afflicted him with since that last night at Hogwarts and the demise of his old master. But as he stood in the dense fog that had accumulated after a rigorous shower, he swore he could feel the scorching sensation of the Dark Mark just as clearly as he had all those months ago. The flashback caused a sickening jolt in his stomach.

He hated looking at the disfigurement, and went to great lengths to ensure it was covered at nearly all times. It was a constant reminder of those frightening years where he felt certain that he and his family were doomed to suffer an incredibly violent end. That fear had been all too real, and far too much for his sixteen year old brain to process. All he could do was focus on the tasks assigned to him, and follow his father's advise that if they did just as they were supposed to in the Dark Lord's eye, the Malfoy name would far surpass the level and prominence Draco had expected as a child.

He use to blame his plummet in wealth and social standings on Harry. It was the Scarhead's fault his father had gone to prison, Potter's fault that he had been assigned the task to murder Dumbledore, and his fault that his life had gone to shit and that he lived a pathetic existence. But now, with a few more years under his robes and the direct correlation between cause and effect more clearly defined, the placing of blame was no longer so simple. Sure the mere thought of that goodie-good caused encompassing irritation at the very least, but Draco could no longer ignore the impacts of his and his family's past decisions, especially his father's.

Draco felt the bond between father and son weaken with every passing day. There had been a time once when his father could do no wrong. Lucius was the king of the world, and anyone foolish enough not to recognize this fact deserved whatever was dished out to them. Draco idolized his father, and wanted nothing more than to be just like him. Even when the Dark Lord called him forward, dictated to him his task and informed him that he was to be inducted into the inner circle, Draco focused his mind on the fact that he was following his father's footsteps and was being so honored by their master. The realization of a suicide task, the fact that he was being used as a pawn in a game he didn't understand just to punish his father for his failings, and the crippling, all encompassing fear didn't come until a few weeks later.

The dead scar represented so much of what had gone wrong the past few years. Where once he felt like he was entitled to the world's splendor, now he felt like a prisoner of his own life. Freedom and possibilities surrounded him, and though he had pretty much given up on the hope of ever being as affluent as his family had been for a millennium, the chance of having a relatively normal, even comfortable life dangled in front of him. But he was tethered to his decaying life, held down by his stoic, status quo father physically, and kept quiet by the sufferings of his mother.

He hated that scar. Every time he looked at it for too long he felt more anxious, angry, and depressed. He would rip the skin away with his bare hands if he wasn't sure the mark continued down to every layer of his flesh, possibly even to the bone. Instead he slapped his hand over it angrily, covering it with all his might and half wished it away.

His quick motion caused him to jerk closer to the mirror, and for a moment Draco was faced with a whole other kind of mark. One that also burned due to his scorching shower, yet one that caused him to smirk victoriously rather than to sneer.

Eight long and thin red lines ran almost perfectly parallel down his back, looking as though someone had dragged a rake across him. A flash of Astoria's unpainted but well cared for nails danced across his mind as the memory from two days ago diverted his thoughts.

They had bumped into each other accidently in the middle of Diagon Alley. She was on her way back home from work and he was rushing to Gringotts before it closed. They hadn't planned on meeting up that day, nor did she look like she was in the mood to entertain. Her normally well groomed hair was tossed back into a tight bun, her makeup from the morning had been mostly wiped off, and her person carried the image of one who had had a stress filled day.

One other tiny change altered her appearance; a pair of black framed glasses. Draco had never seen her wear glasses, nor did he know she even needed them.

Astoria was immediately on the defensive about her somewhat frumpy state. She chastised him for seeing her, as though he had barged into her private bedroom instead of running into her on a public street. She harped about her late start in the morning and the hell she had received at work because of it. All the while she glared at him with her fierce green eyes, as though daring him to make a snide comment.

All Draco could do at first was stare. He absorbed her verbal blows while soaking in the new version of her. She wore sensible flats, black stockings, a tweed skirt that fell just above her knees, and a fitted black jumper. Though not necessarily in and of themselves particularly alluring, he couldn't help but conjure up a certain image he had carried with him since adolescence. One he had kept for his most private and intimate of occasions.

"You were a naughty librarian today, weren't you?" he asked in a husky voice.

Astoria had stopped mid spar and stared at him, mouth slightly open to highlight how taken aback she was by his question. Before she could respond he had grabbed her hand and whisked her down a crooked and narrow back alley where store keepers occasionally tossed their rubbish.

Draco never made it to the bank. Instead he spent the remaining hours of operation bending her over a fence post, a tight grip on her messy black bun as he snarled the filthiest of endearments he could think of in her ear. She in return chastised him for his foul language and misbehavior, and demanded he be reprimanded. The sun set over their heads as he pinned her against a cracked brick wall, her legs wrapped around him tightly as he burrowed his way into her. The rough fabric of her skirt rubbed against his torso as she all but sliced into him with her nails, moaning in helpless ecstasy as they climaxed.

As Draco finished toweling himself off and pulled on his evening robes, he had to admit to himself that girl was getting under his skin in more ways than one. The last few weeks spent with Astoria had manifested a rather enjoyable relationship. Not a romantic one by any means, but there was little use in denying to himself that she was one of the few women he cared to be around.

The girl was undoubtedly mad, prone to violent lapses of anger at the drop of a hat. She was still constantly infuriating, overly haughty and extremely self absorbed. She lived by her own complex set of morals and rules, almost indecipherable to another human being, yet still she looked at you as if it were your fault if you didn't understand her logic. But as time went on these things became less of a mystery.

Draco was always very good at spotting out someone's weaknesses and ticks. Usually he would use these things against someone to crush or manipulate them. Astoria was a little different. Sure he used some of her fears against her to annoy her occasionally, like emphatically stating that she was probably a great cook due to her potions' training and that it would help her to be a great housewife one day. That comment received a scathing look and the proclamation that she did not cook for men.

But mostly he took her strange characteristics and used them to his advantage. She was extremely vain, as were most Slytherins, but in a very specific way. She didn't care too much about her looks. She knew she was attractive, sure, and knew that it was an attribute she could use for her own easy benefit. But she didn't seem to actually care personally that she was pretty. Pansy's looks and station were what she prided about herself the most, and she did everything she could to draw attention to these things. What Astoria valued was her intelligence and her work. These were things she guarded jealously, and anyone who inferred she was anything but the ambitious genius that she was made them fair game for a rude awakening. Her great distaste for most of the human population was due to their shallow stupidity and lack of drive. She only seemed to respect those of a comparable intellect and ambition, and it seemed pretty much everyone fell short of her standards.

This would have made her a rather tedious person to get along with if it weren't for one other thing; the fact that she loved to fuck. While domineering and demanding respect at every other time, the girl also loved to have fun in bed (or the alleyway). He had a feeling she thought sex with a man forced her into subjugation and submission, something she actively tried to avoid. Therefore, whoever she was with had to earn his right to overpower her, and this was not something accomplished with sweet words and pretty trinkets.

Draco found himself having some of the foulest things he had ever said falling out of his mouth around her. As long as he stayed away from words like "stupid" or "lazy", he found he could pretty much say whatever he wanted to her, and in turn, she pretty much let him do anything he wanted, as long as he framed it properly. This had resulted in to a stream of the best shags he had ever had.

It was so good he didn't even mind the brief times spent before and after their romps.

In fact he found being around her nearly enjoyable and almost amusing.

Which is where things were starting to get problematic. As Draco recalled the events of a week ago he felt the small smile he had been wearing fade from his face.

Draco had taken Astoria back to his townhouse for a few good lays. It was getting late and she was ready to go back home (the two never spent the night with each other). Draco was content to lounge on the living room sofa in his boxer shorts and watch her search out for her discarded clothing. She had just finished pulling up her knickers and clasping her bra when the front door burst open and Lucius walked through the door.

His father slipped out of his usual cool demeanor at spying the nearly naked woman standing in his living room. Draco leapt quickly to his feet as his father struggled against his shock.

"Lucius," Astoria greeted with a fearless smirk. Her lack of verbal propriety seemed to shake him out of his stun, and the older man narrowed his eyes.

"_Miss_ Greengrass," Lucius replied firmly.

"It's nice to see you're well," Astoria continued as though they had ran into each other at a theater. "I overheard Father commenting that you haven't been using his firm nearly as often as you have in the past. I was worried you might be ill."

Draco had to suppress a smile. It was just the sort of comment innocent girls would say after overhearing a conversation about business. They were supposed to be naïve enough where they thought that only poor health would be the cause of retreating from the scene, and not because of their poor financial problems. Of course, Astoria was far from innocent.

"I assure you I am quite fine," Lucius replied coldly. Astoria flashed him a smile before she returned to searching for her clothes. Dress and coat in hand, she stood between the two Malfoys still only in her underwear.

"I'll be sure to pass on that wonderful news to Father," she expressed cheerfully, before walking lazily over to Draco. She put her hand on his bare shoulder and gave him a short but deep kiss. Draco responded in kind, and couldn't help but grin at her nerve as she pulled away.

"Ta," she stated simply, before turning on the spot and Disapperating.

Draco shook his head in amusement to the empty space before turning to the bedroom to gather the rest of his own clothes.

"Draco!" his father called to him sternly. "What on earth are you doing?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Draco responded as he returned with his trousers on, temporarily absorbing some of Astoria's backbone. "I mean, you just saw most of the goods. Why would I say no?"

"That girl is a menace," his father stated. "She's Unpure and power hungry, and you need to stay away from her before she reels you in."

Draco laughed as his father missed the point.

"It's just sex, Father," he smirked. "Great sex, but just none the same. I know what she is, just as she knows what I am. It's just a spot of fun."

"Which needs to end instantly," Lucius stated firmly. "Your future, the future of this family, depends on it."

"I just said it's nothing serious…"

"She is Pansy's cousin!" his father snapped. Draco stopped smirking, never thinking this issue would be brought up.

"She's her family, and all though it is clear they share no familiar bond, you traipsing around with that harlot tart is bound to upset her."

Draco's face turned just as emotionless and cold as his father's, though anger began to circulate through his veins.

"It is time you grew up and accepted your place and responsibility," Lucius continued. "You will marry Pansy and further establish this family."

Draco grabbed a half finished goblet of wine and began to down it, actively trying to drown out his father's words.

"You're lucky the girl still wants you after all you've done," Lucius stated bitterly. "You will cease seeing that bastard slag and become a man this instant."

Enraged, Draco flung the goblet at the nearest wall with all of his might. As the glass exploded and fell to the floor, both Malfoys stared at one another. Lucius watched his son's grey eyes glare with anger at the position he had placed him in, at the words he had called the girl, and the insults he had given them both.

Lucius was unmoved.

"It's time to grow up," he said simply. "Now clean up the mess you've made."

Draco had been silently plagued by this interaction ever since. He couldn't stand the thought of the future his father had laid out for him. Marriage at age twenty? And to Pansy? His life would be over.

Correction, his life would have never have even started. Since age sixteen his actions had been directly controlled by another. The Dark Lord, the Ministry, his father. With marriage, so obviously done in pursuit of wealth, he would be at the mercy of his wife and father-in-law. He knew Mr. Parkinson couldn't stand him or his family, and only tolerated his presence at the manor because of his daughter's deep affections.

There had to be another way, a newer way. This was the twenty-first century, ruled by those Muggle-loving optimists. Surely there was a way to gain wealth and prominence without having to marry up the social ladder. Without having to sacrifice the small freedoms he had now and the ones he dreamed of having for the future.

Where he wasn't forced to stop seeing Astoria.

Not that he didn't foresee an end, he reminded himself quickly as he slipped into the Great Hall of the manor. It had to end eventually; there was no doubt about that. Someday they would have a big row, or things would just fizzle out, they had to. But as of now the small amount of time he spent with her each week was the only time he enjoyed himself, and it was the only thing he really ever looked forward to.

"Draco, darling," a soft voice called out to him.

Draco turned to see his mother, dressed in pretty but faded night robes, the belt of which had begun to fray.

"Yes, Mother?" he responded quietly, unable to help but think in better times his beautiful mother would never have to wear something so old.

"I just got through talking with Acacia. Your father wants us to all have breakfast over at Parkinson Park tomorrow so we can all catch up. Won't that be lovely?" she asked sweetly.

A jolt of anger flashed through him.

"You too?" he demanded loudly, throwing her a look of disgust before he turned away and headed towards the door.

"Darling! Where are you going?" she inquired in panic.

"Away from those intent on ruining what little life I have!" he spat, before throwing open the doors and Disapperating as soon as the boundaries allowed him.

Draco had no allies. No one he could depend on. None of his friends were in this situation. Zabini and Nott had both managed to stay in a fairly respectable position. Nott's elderly father had died in Azkaban before the Dark Lord had fully risen to power, and was therefore left untouched in the trials. Though Zabini had supported the Dark Lord, he and his mother had played no real active part. Goyle was of course destitute, but he was never really expected to go far anyways. Pansy was not-so-subtly thrilled at Draco's situation, as it played in her favor. It was obvious he could no longer seek comfort from his parents.

And there was no one else. Everyone else had either died or refused to associate with him. He was alone, stripped of comrades and family to support him, or at the very least stand around him and momentarily distract him. There was no one left.

Except…

Draco found himself atop the creaking wooden staircase that led to the flat above the apothecary in Diagon Alley. Astoria wasn't really a friend…well, maybe she was, but not the kind you sought comfort from. She clearly did not suffer fools or their problems, and the thought of receiving any kind of sympathy from her was laughable.

But he had been thinking about her a lot that night and had Apparated to her flat instinctively. And though she may not offer consolation, it was not so farfetched to expect temporary asylum. He had his whole life to be alone, might as well enjoy some company while he still could.

"Who is it?" a voice demanded a few moments after he knocked on the door.

"It's me," he replied simply.

"You mean, 'It is I'," she schooled. Draco scowled.

"I didn't come here for a grammar lesson."

Draco heard the sound of the door being unlocked before it swung open. She stood at the entrance with her arms folded, dressed in an old fitted Hogwarts t-shirt and tartan pajama bottoms. Her hair was pulled back in a loose tie and little black wisps framed her strong face, softening her appearance despite the rather serious look she held.

"I know exactly why you came here," she stated lightly. "And you are fresh out of luck because I just ate and am too full to do anything."

"I can wait," he replied simply, for once not really in the mood to shag and relieved for the pretense. She stared at him for a moment, cocking her thick black eyebrow as though in deliberation. Draco stood in the entrance stoically, snow flurries whirling lightly around his face as the nightly snow began to fall.

"Whatever," she granted, turning away from the open door and returning to her desk. Draco shrugged off his coat and made a point to hang it up on the appointed hook. Her flat looked more or less like it had a week ago. Her ludicrous greenhouse still stood strong, and despite the makeshift location the plants seemed to be thriving. The small space dedicating to living was neat and orderly, but not very personable. As always he found his eyes being drawn to the kitchen table with a sense that there was something missing.

Astoria had returned to her office desk that was pushed up against the living room wall. Books and parchment were strewn about the area, as the table alone was not large enough to hold her reference materials. She sat with good posture at her seat, scribbling notes furiously. As Draco walked further into the living room, he was struck with a whiff of burnt metal and chemicals.

"What is that smell?" he sneered, clearing the air in front of his face.

"Failure," Astoria responded curtly, without looking up from her notes. It was then that Draco noticed the small disfigured cauldron, half melted to the floor by her desk.

Her normal distant mood was obviously intensified by this mishap. She would be buried in her work for quite some time. The small hope of a distraction immediately evaporated. He knew he should probably just leave. She already sat as though completely oblivious to his presence. He should just go home and try and get some sleep, or run off to the pub and drown his sorrows. Anything so he didn't have to sit alone and think.

But his feet only carried him to the couch to do just that. He sat, staring at his boots, replaying his father's words and his situation over and over in his head like an old record. Absorbed in his despair, he neglected to hear the cease of a quill scratching against parchment, or the whistle of a tea kettle from the kitchen.

"You know what I find incredibly annoying?" Astoria asked suddenly, ripping him away from his internal musings.

"I'm sure you can find a number of things to fit within that category," he replied quickly, eyeing the tray she held in her hand with suspicion. She ignored his comment and laid her second hand tea set down on the table, pouring the liquid into two old looking cups that sat between a plate of peanut brittle.

"My whole life I've been fighting against the outdated and suppressive acts of decorum that comes with being a so called 'lady'. I try so hard to reject everything I learned in those superfluous edict classes my mother forced us to take when we were little. And yet despite such a strong rebellion, and the fact that you came over unannounced in the middle of some very important work, I still find it in incredibly bad taste to ignore my hosting duties, and couldn't focus on anything besides the point that you could probably use some hot tea after such a cold walk."

"That is annoying," he replied quietly, watching her pour herself a cup of tea while intentionally leaving his empty.

"Yes," she agreed, between taking a deep sip. "But despite a person's best efforts and intentions, there is not a more powerful position to fundamentally brainwash someone than that of a parent."

"Hmm," Draco responded with a noncommittal grunt as he grabbed a piece of brittle and inspected it closely. A few more seconds passed before Astoria continued talking.

"Well, that was my subtle prelude to the conversation you clearly want to have," she stated, throwing up her hands and jumping off the couch.

"What?" Draco asked quickly, feeling as though he had missed something.

Astoria narrowed her eyes, folding her lengthy arms across her slender chest.

"You've been huffing and sighing on my couch for the past twenty minutes, annoying the blazes out of me. You obviously didn't come here for sex, seeing as how a simple no has never stopped you from trying before. You're brooding, and its distracting me. And despite my minor catastrophe of the morning I'm feeling rather generous. So tell me, what has Daddy done now?"

Draco stared at the woman who now sat primly on the far side of the couch. She stared at him with general interest, and her inquiry was formed out of mild curiosity and selfishness. Draco didn't normally talk about his problems, not to living people anyhow. But something about the way her eyes locked on to his, and the way her lips curved in to a half, almost warm smile made him want to spill.

"What makes you think I'd come to talk to you about _that_?" he demanded forcefully, pushing out a signature sneer to repress a genuine desire.

"Because you've no one else," she replied with a quick bluntness. "That troupe of miscreants whose company you insist on keeping aren't the most sympathetic of creatures, in fact they'd view you as weak and use whatever you tell them against you. I gain no benefit from your demise, therefore anything you tell me is useless beyond a fuel for empathy, which I guess we are about to test whether or not I even have any."

Draco shook his head, slightly amused in spite of himself. As self-absorbed as she acted she certainly pegged him dead on.

"I don't know," he all but spat, staring straight ahead as he tried to control the pitch and dynamics of his voice. "We're losing all of our money, our power, our prestige. What's not to brood about?"

"Sure, but these are all things we've _both_ known for over a year. What's happened now that's gotten you into such a particular state?" she inquired. Draco raised his head in enough time to see her expression soften, and a look of sorrow slipped out of her cool exterior.

"Is it me?" she asked, her words laced with a small twinge of guilt. For some unknown reason the simple question, the fact that she not only seemed to care but that the prospect made her feel bad, made him all the more angrier at the situation.

"No," he replied quickly. "I mean, not really. It just seems as though the only solution Father can find to get us out of this situation is for me to…find a rich, Pureblood woman and marry her."

The tiny look of sorrow on Astoria's face instantly transformed into that of disgust.

"How original of Lucius," she spat, pushing herself off the couch. She began to pace the small area of her living room, running her hands through her hair and messing up its tie.

"I really hate your wanker of a father," she ranted. "He's never done a damn thing in his life accept care about his appearances and siphon off other people's power."

Despite the anger he felt for his father, an instinctual rage at his family being attacked encompassed him.

"What the hell do you know about my family?" he growled. "What do you know about any family? You've all but deserted your own!"

"I know that father's are supposed to protect their children," she stated softly, stepping over his own low blows. "Father's aren't supposed to let their children be placed in the hands of a madman just to get themselves out of prison and back into good standing. They aren't supposed to hold them back when they're grown and spit on their accomplishments. And they certainly aren't supposed to use them as chattel to weakly make up some of the _material_ things they've lost on account of their own damn nearsightedness."

Draco was struck by her speech. It may not have been 100% accurate, and it certainly wasn't anything he hadn't thought of separately on his own, but having it all listed in front of him so clearly by someone else, by Astoria, made him feel…lost, hopeless, angry, listless…understood…validated…in company.

"I apologize for being so forward," she said solidly, returning to her seat and gingerly drinking out of her cup of tea. "I know your father isn't the only one who has done this to someone, but those people aren't sitting in my living room."

She stared determinedly in front of herself after this admission. The urge to smile due to her roundabout expression of affection afflicted him, though he was able to have it tamed by the time her attention returned.

"There wasn't really a need for me to drag in your family into this discussion," he stated, framing his own subtle apology. "I bet you think it's weak that someone doesn't just leave their family when they are unhappy staying there."

Astoria stared into her own cup for awhile before responding.

"I didn't so much leave as they let me go. I wasn't needed, no one _really_ wanted me," she informed. "It's different for you. If nothing else your father recognizes you as his only child, his male heir. He needs you and won't let you go. And I get the feeling he wouldn't want you too, either. And your mother definitely loves you."

"My mother is just as willing to sell me off as is Father," he spat bitterly, remembering their encounter just before he left.

"Don't be too hard on your mother," she suggested softly. "She's just doing what she thinks she's suppose to. Women at our level are raised to have the family be their whole lives, to give up everything for husband and child, only to be taken for granted when they make those sacrifices. Just to be left alone at home while the husbands make greedy business deals to make more money which doesn't really make anyone happier. Just to have their sons raised to do the same thing, while their daughters focus on finding a husband of their own. Your mother is one of the few women at our station who has done it ideally."

_And therefore you actually pity her_, Draco thought ironically, finishing her sentence in his head. He had never thought about women like that before. He had been taught that a wife was supposed to be there for him, support him. Sure she could be dominate in the affairs of the house, occasionally throw her two Knuts in when it came to business, but on a whole the husband ran the family. It never occurred to him however that his mother was _forced _along into everything, that she was tied like a slave against her own free will.

It was an archaic thought, one that made him nauseous.

Astoria had obviously given it a lot of thought to be able to sum it up so neatly. As she sat quietly on the couch, Draco saw her in a light that had never been shed on her before. He didn't see her as the boisterous, confident, cool woman who thought only along the lines of science and her own impetuous logic. Instead, he saw a vulnerable, eighteen year old girl, running away from chains and a life she didn't want and where no one really wanted her. He suddenly felt as if he understood her a little better, that her tough and bitter exterior that ran so deeply was the best defense she could have in her situation.

He couldn't help but admire her spunk.

"You know, Father is not really one of your biggest fans either," he stated with a grin, figuring his future admission would life her spirits. "In fact he is rather threatened by you and our little get togethers."

"Why?" she asked indignantly. "We're just shagging. I'm not going to get in the way of you getting married."

"That's not what he thinks," he continued, finding a silver lining of amusement in his torture. "He's worried about the particular position you hold over his future plans."

"I ask again: why?" she repeated, a look of annoyance crossing her face.

"Come on, Azzy. Who do you think he wants me to marry?"

"Pansy!" she expressed in an explosive laugh. Draco watched with a cocked eyebrow as she threw herself against the couch.

"Oh you poor thing!" she expressed through a hoard of giggles. "Oh, I can definitely see how us fucking could be a sensitive issue for my only and least favorite cousin. Hey!"

She shot up like a bolt of lightning, a look of pure ecstasy plastered to her face.

"What if we did let it slip to her? Maybe she'd be so upset she'd call the whole thing off on her own?" she suggested in excitement. Draco mulled the idea over for awhile. It was tempting, and certainly a quick and easy fix to his current problem.

"No, it wouldn't work," he sighed after further deliberation. "Father would just find someone else to pair me off with, probably the most homely and desperate woman he could find. Plus, I'm pretty sure Pansy is delusional enough to still want me even after you. It would just make the situation all the worse because she would never leave me alone or ever let me forget about it."

"It could still be fun," she muttered with a childish pout. After a few seconds she slouched back on the couch and stared at him tentatively.

"So what _are_ you going to do?" she inquired genuinely.

"Not sure," he admitted with an exhaled breath. "Something that will get father off this whole marriage thing. There has to be another way, one he hasn't thought of."

"Well of course there is," she replied as though this were the most obvious statement of the century. "Lucius has always been too dependent on the status quo to think of anything imaginative. You were always much more of a planner…a schemer really… mind you most of your ideas were immature and ill-carried out… some sparks of brilliance though, the dresser thing was kind of impressive."

"Why Azzy, were you just giving me a compliment?" he asked with a wide smirk.

"Anyhow, I'm sure you'll figure something out," she continued, picking herself off her couch. "Until then, I'll make sure nothing slips out to your fiancée."

His grin immediately faded at her comment. He crossed his arms and watched her wander across her flat to inspect some of the plants outside the greenhouse.

"You know, despite the fact that you are a crazy heinous bitch, you are much more rational than you get credit for," he stated lazily.

"That's what I keep trying to tell people," she replied back. "Now excuse me, I need to go yell at my plants."

Draco shook his head and stretched back out on the couch as she disappeared into her makeshift nursery. He had never expected coming here, talking to her and hearing her crazy insight would do any good. Yet he felt a little lighter, and it felt as though something had changed though he knew it really hadn't. It just seemed a little easier to walk away from his father's plans, to make his own. The scars that covered his body, from the Dark Lord, from Potter, from Astoria, they were his to carry, his to bare. He couldn't change what had happened in the past, but he was more determined than ever to secure his own future. It was his life, and wasn't going to let anyone else force it away from him.

He fell asleep on the couch, running away from dreams of Astronomy Towers and pink floral bouquets. When he woke up he found himself covered with a green knit blanket that had been tucked carefully under his exposed feet.

He looked up to see Astoria once again writing steadily in a journal, the single lit candle on her desk all but extinguished. She heard his movements, smiled, and finished her sentence before abandoning her quill and carrying the candle over to the coffee table. He moved his feet to allow her room to sit.

"You feel better?" she asked, placing her hand on his exposed leg.

"Why?" he asked through a yawn. "You wanna fuck?"

Astoria shrugged, and her sly smile was visible as the candlelight flickered across her face.

"I let you into my house, sheltered you, fed you, listened to your problems and let you sleep on my couch. The least you could do is put out."

Draco laughed roughly at her comment before cupping her face in admiration. Their lips found each other's as the candle burnt itself out. Though their kisses were coarse and lusty, Draco couldn't help but notice how sweet she tasted, or how soft her skin was. He quickly pushed her down on the other side of the couch, wanting nothing more than to throw his body on top of hers and lose himself in her dark hair and jagged hips.

Although his past and future were both held in question, there was one thing about the present that needed no further reflection. He wouldn't be giving up Astoria on anyone else's command but their own.


	10. Memories: Marked

**(**_**A/N: Just as a quick forewarning, I do not condone or romanticize what Astoria does in this chapter. Just thought I'd throw that out there. Enjoy!)**_

_Memories: Marked_

Astoria pressed the cool, jagged blade to the soft skin just below her wrist. It was one of impressive quality, ancient looking and ceremonial, nothing like the rest of the second hand cutlery she kept in her flat. It was a knife that looked like it had seen violence, inflicting its fair share of permanent cruelty on the world. Though Astoria didn't care too much for symbolism, she couldn't deny that the weapon's probable history casted a perfect irony over her intentions. Whereas this blade was forged to afflict a lasting damage on an assailant, its future would lie in that of a healing nature.

Her potion simmered out in the greenhouse, brewing softly in the twilight as the ingredients, so carefully researched and thoughtfully chosen, entwined with one another to release an ultimate potential. She estimated it was only a matter of days before the brew reached its full capacity, and in the mean time there was only one other thing she needed to collect.

Scars.

A line of scars, spaced out over different periods of time, well documented and perfectly placed. Time was of great importance in this experiment and she needed to be thorough.

Her experiment was taking much longer than she originally anticipated. She found herself reaching dead ends constantly with ingredients she felt certain would work and didn't. It was all very frustrating, yet she was determined to continue.

She was finally in the stages where she had something to show for herself. The potion outside, absorbing the healing properties released by the stars during the new moon, was her first possible breakthrough. Though only a base for the more complex project that lay before her, it was still an original starting point. A new method was the key to her success, and she had to focus her mind to stay away from the conventional and the tried.

After casting a nervous glance out the window to assure her potion continued to simmer, she returned her attention to the matter literally at hand. Although her mind was tuned to the necessity of her actions, a small flutter in her heart beat distractively. She couldn't help but be plagued by the social taboo of cutting, especially on the wrist. One of her dorm mates had been caught cutting her wrists in their sixth year after both her parents had been carted off to Azkaban. Professor McGonagall had talked to them all privately about the incident. Her words about the mental and physical trauma caused by the act rolled across her head. At the time Astoria had ignored the warnings. She didn't care one way or the other about what her roommate had done, nor did she have any desire to botch up her skin, especially after working so hard to clear it of the marks of puberty. Plus, she didn't really see the big deal about it.

It was therefore all the more surprising that two years later she remembered McGonagall's speech verbatim.

Astoria shook her head. This wasn't about an outlet, she reminded herself. It was about science, her career, her life. She _had_ to do this. It had to be tested on human skin for it to work properly. There was no way around it.

The sour feeling continued in her stomach. Her mother would kill her if she found out what she was doing. For all intents and purposes her body, according to the skewed logic of her mother, was her future husband's, and she should not decimate it. Cheri would be horrified and her annoying desire to council her would increase intensively. Luckily it was wintertime, and as long as she was careful and wore the proper attire, the cuts should go unnoticed.

Of course, there was the slight problem of Draco. Her clothes never stayed on for too long when he was around. Though that internal statement irritated her immensely, she couldn't help but smile. She was starting to grow accustom to his increasing presence in her life. The sex was amazing, almost too amazing. Reminiscing about a previous encounter was a surefire way to distract her from work. Even then she felt a light shudder roll across her body as she recalled how masterfully he had gone down on her on the very couch she stood behind.

But there were other things she found herself thinking about too. His arms were strong, and some part of her became more docile when he placed them around her. His grey eyes were sharp and cunning, reflecting the fairly impressive mind that sat behind them. His lips formed the perfect smirks and sneers, ones which excited her, challenged her. He was still a spoiled brat who was more than full of himself, and he was adamant on reminding those around him about those traits. However, after a while, when he got comfortable and settled in, he could forget to throw up that obnoxious front and let some of his more pleasant attributes filter through. Attributes that made him relatable, amusing, likeable.

_Maybe I should just end it,_ she thought to herself. It was a bad sign if she was thinking about him past sex. He was starting to interfere with her life, distracting her. She was even pausing at the moment, wasting time, wondering about his reactions to her cuts and debating whether or not she should proceed.

"He probably wouldn't even care," she said aloud, answering her own debate. She surprised herself by saying such with a slight pout, as though this bothered her. She looked back at her arm, still devoid of fresh cuts, contemplating the accuracy of her statement.

_I'll just make sure he is distracted with other parts of me he won't have time to look at my wrists,_ she finally determined, grinning at the prospect of a new game. _Besides, if I'm right, they'll all be gone within the week._

With the thoughts of others out of the way, she turned her attention back to business.

She stretched out her wand hand, placing the knife awkwardly in her left. There was another reason she was using herself as an experiment, why she was intent on placing the cuts on her wrist. An old but prominent scar traced sharply at the base of the joint. It was an ugly scar with an ugly story, one which she'd be all too happy to be rid of. As she placed the blade a few centimeters below it, she couldn't help but remember the night of its creation…

_It was getting late. Too late. _The candles that bordered the castle's stonewalls began to flicker violently, warning students of the encroaching hour of curfew. The corridors were almost completely empty as straggling students made their ways to their respected common rooms.

Astoria had been one of those students a few minutes before. She had spent her hours after dinner in the library, working on her essay for Charms. She was one of the few students in the library that evening, and probably the only First Year. It was the very beginning of the Spring Term, and most of her schoolmates were just easing back in, still resisting the reality of homework as they returned from the Christmas Holidays. But Astoria was all too glad to be back at school, away from her parents and oppressive home, and had dived into her first assignment with gusto.

Though not due for another week, she had finished the paper just before the library closed, and was returning to the Slytherin common room with a fulfilling smugness when she was struck with a realization. She had left her new bracelet on her study table.

Groaning miserably, she turned around and quickly dashed back to the library. She wasn't attached to the trinket; on the contrary she found it clunky and distracting when she wrote, which is why she had taken it off in the first place. However, her sister had given it to her for Christmas, and her mother would never let her hear the end of it if she found out she lost the expensive piece of jewelry.

She made it to the entrance to the library just as Madam Pince was closing the doors.

"Wait!" Astoria expressed, trying to wedge her small frame in the door.

"The library is closed!" the librarian announced with disdain. "You'll have to wait until morning to get your books."

"I don't need a book! I left my bracelet. I know right where it is, it will only take a few seconds!" she explained.

Madam Pince narrowed her eyes, dipping her hand into her robes before pulling out the platinum charm bracelet.

"Little girls need to be more responsible for their possessions, especially such expensive ones," Madam Pince chastised. "You can come back and claim it in the morning."

"But you have…!" Astoria's rebuttal was cut short as the large door slammed in her face. She looked forward for a few moments, rage filling her little body after what had just happened.

"Miserable old cunt!" she spat, kicking the door loudly before spinning back towards the dungeons. This was not the wisest of actions, as both her words and clangs from the door echoed violently in the empty corridor.

"You there! First Year!" a pompous voice called out. Astoria turned her head to see a tall, red headed Seventh Year marching her way.

"Great," she muttered under her breath as the Weasley (she wasn't sure which) approached her.

"What are you doing out of bed, young lady?" he demanded, pointing to the low flickers of the candles, signaling the hour was past curfew. "No student is to be lingering in the halls, especially after hours."

"You're a student out of bed," she pointed out, clenching her jaw in annoyance. The last thing she needed right now was the self-righteous babbling of someone who thought they were important, especially when they called her 'young lady'.

"I'm Head Boy!" he stated indignantly, pointing to the over polished badge pinned to his chest. "It is my duty to patrol the halls at night to make sure everyone is safe. There is a madman on the loose you know!"

"Really? I hadn't heard," she spat sarcastically, pushing past the red head to make it towards her bed. The Weasley shot out one of his willowy arms and grabbed her by the scruff of her robes to stop her. His touch caused her to almost go blind with rage.

"This is serious business, young lady, the breaking of school rules is a serious offence!" he quoted pompously. "Now I'll ask you one more time, what are you doing out of bed?"

"I came to get my bracelet from the library!" she snapped. "It is very _expensive_, and I wouldn't want anyone _stealing _it and trading it for robes from a proper clothing store, now would I?"

She watched the Weasley's neck flush red in anger just above the frayed ends of his well cared for but still obviously second hand robes. He pushed his horn rimmed glasses up his nose and tugged roughly on his captive.

"Ow!" she cried as he dragged her into a march. "Where the hell are you taking me?"

"To see the head of your house," he explained through gritted teeth. The color from her face drained immediately.

"I thought that'd get a reaction," he stated with a smirk. "Not so daring now when you know a nasty detention is ahead of you!"

Astoria said nothing, but fear for detention was the last thing on her mind. He dragged her through the corridor to the staircase leading off to the dungeons. They moved away from her common room where she so longed to be and marched over to the potion's lab. The Weasley knocked loudly on an unmarked door.

A few moments passed in eerie silence before the office door swung open. Professor Snape stood with an irritated expression on his face, a half finished potion brewing violently behind him.

"This better be important, Weasley," he scolded coldly.

"I found one of your children out of bed," Weasley explained firmly, pushing her forward to present her. Snape's black eyes widen with recognition, and for the briefest of seconds she swore she saw a flash of fear cross his face.

"She was very rude," the Weasley continued, oblivious to the interaction. "She answered my questions snidely and has a complete lack of respect for her superiors. You won't believe what she called Madam Pince…"

"Are you telling me you withdrew me from my work, direct orders from Professor Dumbledore, all because you could not handle the mouth of an eleven year old girl?" Snape demanded. "What kind of standards do they set for Head Boys these days?"

Weasley stood in temporary shock, his mouth flailing at the comment. He regained his ground quickly, and all but pushed Astoria into the office.

"She is out of bed. The Ministry has made it clear that safety is to be the number one priority, and strict measures are to follow those who disobey. I will go place her name down on the ledger so we'll know if she is a repeat defender _and_ to make sure the proper discipline is carried out."

"My my, what would we do without you?" Snape asked coolly, slamming the door before the Weasley could respond.

Astoria stood by the bubbling potion quietly, staring at the back of the man whose hand still lay on the door. Under any other circumstance her curiosity would have been peeked by such an obviously complex brew, especially as she recognized the ingredient of wolfsbane. As of that moment however, all of her attention was focused on her breathing and her nerve.

She had never been alone with him like this before. After the realization with the Sorting Hat she had been extremely anxious about her first potions class and meeting him in the common room for introductions. The way he stared incessantly at her during the Sorting made it seem like he knew who she was, what _he _was. It just seemed like naturally something would be said between the two of them, they obviously couldn't just go seven years simply staring at one another.

But as she rode the train home for Christmas and reflected over her first term she had realized that was pretty much how life was going. He never called her out or tried to talk to her. He wasn't particularly nice nor was he unnecessarily nasty to her either. He would call on her if she raised her hand in class and passed out the same warnings to her as he did every one of his other students. The fact that he seemed to have no particular interest in her got her to think that maybe the Sorting Hat was wrong, that perhaps she just imagined that he was staring at her. And though she hardly knew him, she did know her mother, and the idea that the two of them spent any real time together, even for just a few passing intimate moments, was incomprehensible.

And for a few days she was able to shake it off, resigning herself back to the fact that she probably would never know who her real father was and hardly caring. And she would have been just fine continuing to think that way if she hadn't noticed something else.

It wasn't that Snape had no particular interest in her, she eventually realized, but he actively went out of his way to avoid interacting with her. Sure he would call on her to answer a question, but only when no one else knew the answer. She always did very well on her potions and quickly became the best in her class. Whereas he would loudly berate non-Slytherin students for their failings and smugly praise his charges for their successes, he hardly commented on her work. Lesser work from her classmates would receive more attention, both positive and negative, while she received a few sparse fragments. "Good" was what she heard when she was successful and an unhelpful but dignified "next time" when she messed something up. Whereas everyone else's essays bled with red ink and corrections, she only received a grade mark at the top, one which was usually near perfect.

Such non-recognition made her feel like he knew exactly who she was and that he was intent on avoiding her completely. His delay in speaking to her now, from even looking at her, confirmed it.

This, coupled with the events of the evening, made her the most angry she had ever been. Her body started to shake in agitation and it was all she could do to keep from screaming.

Snape eventually turned around, a clearly forced yet still collected calm placed on his sullen face.

"You know you are not supposed to be out of the dungeons after curfew," he stated simply, his piercing gaze avoiding her. "These are dangerous times."

"Don't act like you give a damn about me!" Astoria exploded, losing the last of her restraint. "Throw me in detention or toss me out to the Dementors but don't you for one fucking moment dare lecture me about my safety."

Astoria's outright insubordination threw him and for a brief moment Snape lost his collection. A hot anger flashed across his black eyes and his lips twisted into a scowl.

"I will not be spoken to in such a way!" he decreed, his strong jaw clenching fiercely as his eyes narrowed. If she had had the right mind to think about such things Astoria might have noticed that look was identically mirrored on her own face. Instead she did what she always did when placed in a fight or flight confrontation.

She fought.

"I will talk to you how I want! Cowardly bastards don't merit respect!" she yelled, holding back childish tears as she tried to make a grown up statement. Snape darted across the room, mere centimeters from her face in a horrifying moment, wand pressed against her throat.

"Utter one more word," he hissed, "and I do the world a favor and destroy you like the nothing little brat that you are."

"Go ahead!" she goaded. "Kill me, get rid of me, silence me! Anything to make _you_ feel better. Anything so you don't have to deal with _me."_

"Shut up," he ordered with a frighteningly calm voice.

"You have no idea what I've had to go through because of you!" she cried. "How wretched my existence is. So go ahead, do it, just wipe me out entirely so I don't have to keep on living knowing I come from the likes of you!"

"I said SHUT UP!"

And at that moment he lost his cool. Despite the twenty three years he had on her, Snape reverted to the uncontrollable anger he always felt inside, the same anger that flowed so freely from the eleven year old that stood so accusingly in front of him. Astoria felt something happening to her, felt a foreign presence overcoming her consciousness. And though this experience was completely novel to her she recognized that whatever it was it was uncontrolled, fueled only by pure, intense emotion.

Without her consent a stream of memories was forced out of her mind, put on display like a muggle film, with a most unwanted audience member standing ever present in the aisles.

_A summer birthday party_, thrown indoors in a gorgeous manor, her home, decorated with lacy table cloths and food the just turned eleven year old couldn't pronounce. Though the banner above the door proclaimed a congratulations to her landmark birthday, no one in that room was there for her. The children there, forced by their parents, all muttered a happy birthday to her before playing amongst themselves. The adults didn't even seem to notice her.

All this was fine by Astoria. All she wanted was her new book. It was the only one of her gifts she had actually liked, a gift that was actually meaningful, and it was given to her by Bluebonnet, the House Elf. She snuck off to a side room with the intentions of barricading herself and reading throughout the party. Hearing footsteps she ducked under a desk, fearing her mother had finally noticed her absence.

"Ugh, this party is so boring!" a girl Astoria barely recognized announced. She was a pureblooded Slytherin, as was almost everyone else at the party, but her and her friend were a good five years older.

"Why did we even have to come here?" her companion complained in a whiney voice. "It's not like Astoria is even important."

"She is so weird and creepy," the original girl shuddered. "It must be all that dirty muggle blood."

"That girl is in for a rude awakening when she comes to Hogwarts. If she thinks we're going to keep kissing her ass just because that senile old fool Greengrass hasn't wised up and seen she's just another Unpure bastard child, she has another thing coming."

"We should drag her to the Shrieking Shack and charm it so she can't get out."

"Or take her to the bathroom and see if we can "filter out" her dirty blood. You still have that knife set, right?"

The two girls laughed manically before exiting the room. Astoria stood up from behind her desk, hot tears rolling down her angry face.

_A spring evening just before Easter,_ the sun just beginning to set behind the small but active Quidditch pitch. Some of the older kids were playing an impromptu game. Nine years old and uninterested in sports, Astoria had spent the afternoon combing the nearby field and studying the strange plants that grew. This was a normal activity for her, yet today there was a big change. A boy who called himself Theo had been watching her and asked if he could help. She resisted the idea at first, but he was quiet, and whenever he did talk it was to tell her something useful about a plant she didn't know.

"You're very strange, Astoria," he told her suddenly after he finished listing the properties of hellebore. "Very strange, but very pretty."

Before she could respond Theo had grabbed her face and slipped his tongue into her mouth. She stood still as her first kiss was stolen from her, unsure of what to do or of what she wanted.

"Hey Nott!" a boisterous voice catcalled. Astoria and Theodore broke apart to see Marcus Flint standing next to his slumping cousin Goyle. "You better watch where you put your tongue. That girl will give you Mudblood fever."

"Oh, that's right," Theodore said calmly, pulling his hands away from her face and stepping back. "I had forgotten. Pity."

The memory changed scenes just as Astoria balled her fist to punch Nott in the stomach.

_A giant Christmas tree_ sat among piles of discarded wrapping on the floor. Astoria, four years old and hardly tall enough to reach the top of the mantel even on her tiptoes, worked diligently to retrieve one of her new toys. After a long effort she had finally managed to scoot a chair over so she could reach. A purple stuffed Kneazle, incredibly soft with a friendly smile, stared at her from across the table. She carefully crawled to get to it, making sure she didn't knock any of the other gifts off to the floor.

Victorious, she had the cat shaped animal in her arms just long enough to squeeze it lovingly and contemplate a name before a figure approached her from behind.

"Give me that!" a shrill voice demanded. Pansy ripped the cat-like stuffed animal out of her arms, holding it teasingly above her head.

"That's mine!" Astoria cried, jumping with all her might to reach her new beloved toy.

"It can't be yours," Pansy taunted mockingly. "This is a pure bred magical Kneazle, and you're a mixed blooded little runt. You don't deserve this!"

"But I am a Pureblood!" Astoria expressed, tears running down her cheeks.

"And you're a liar! Lying about being a Pureblood is bad enough to get you killed. In fact," Pansy smirked, staring at the toy in her hand, "I think a punishment is in order."

Before Astoria could do anything to stop her Pansy tossed her new stuffed toy in the fire. Astoria shrieked as she watched the purple kitten erupt into flames. Tears spilling down her cheek, she ran into the next room.

"Mummy, Mummy!" Astoria cried, finally finding her mother alone in her dressing room.

"Astoria, I really don't have time for you right now," her mother scowled in exasperation.

"But Mum, Pansy threw my new Kneazle in the fire! She said I didn't deserve it because I wasn't a Pureblood, and she just…"

Phoebe Greengrass grabbed her daughter roughly around the shoulders before she could finish her sentence, and began to shake her violently.

"Don't you EVER say that again, do you hear me? There is to be no talk about you not being Pure!" her mother insisted fiercely.

"But Pansy said…"

A sharp slap found Astoria's tear soaked face as she tried to further explain herself. The force was so strong in knocked the unprepared girl to her feet. In shock, she could only stare up at her mother in total confusion.

"Astoria Anathema Greengrass, you keep your damn mouth shut! I will not have you speak like that in your father's house…"

Astoria wasn't sure if it was the particular pathetic cruelty of this memory that caused what happened next. Perhaps it was seeing Phoebe after so long that had gotten to him, or maybe his rage had finally subsided. None the less, Astoria sensed a weakness in her captor; felt like the strong hold on her memories had loosened. So, with all her might, she pushed. She closed her mind and pushed the intruder out, ready to be back to normal.

Only after the push, she didn't feel normal. She felt as though she had passed a boarder of normal, landing some place strange and unwelcoming.

_She found herself standing in a hazy fog_, a full moon shining dimly above the deserted roadside. Although Astoria could see no one, she heard the distant clatters, laughs and music of a party. The leaves that whirled around her feet, carried by the wind, were all dead.

Right when she felt sure she was lost somewhere she saw a cloaked figure stumbling along the roadside. As the figure approached her she could hear painful moans as he limped along.

"Professor?" she called out, recognizing the man heading her way. For a brief moment she panicked, believing him to be hurt. But when she rushed over to him she realized she was wrong. This was not her Professor Snape. It was a Snape much younger, twelve years younger to be exact. And even though she had clearly forced herself into one of his memories, there was no escaping the horrendous smell of whiskey that permeated his skin.

All she could do was watch her poor professor stumble aimlessly around the street. At one point he threw himself against a lamp post, his head buried in his arm as he began to sob. He started calling out to someone, bemoaning someone's name, but the sound was muffled by his cloak so she couldn't hear it properly.

She was so caught by the sight of this young distraught Snape she didn't notice a second figure enter the scene. A woman in a pretty risqué dress and impossible heels all but tripped down the hill where the party was being held. The way her makeup and hair was done made Astoria believe there was some kind of costume party. The young woman also stumbled as she headed their way.

"Drunk, I'll show _you_ who's a drunken fool, Helios," she proclaimed sloppily. Astoria's mouth dropped as she recognized the slur.

"Mother?" she cried incredulously. True it was a much younger version of her mother than she was used to seeing, but there was no denying the fact. Her soft red hair hung down elegantly from her milky face, and her eye makeup caused her bright green eyes to pop beautifully.

"Who's there?" her mother demanded as she caught sight of the slumped figure. Snape rose to meet her.

"Oh, Severus, it's just you. You scared me," Phoebe proclaimed, placing her hand on her chest. Snape however perked up, staring at Astoria's mother as though completely dumbfounded.

"Lily," he cried through choked tears. "Lily, you're alive!"

Astoria watched in utter shock as Snape ran to her mother and scooped her in his arms. He buried his head in her red hair and sobbed.

"Severus, what are you…" but Astoria's mother stopped, her face serine as Snape continued to stroke her gently, lovingly.

"Lily," he moaned softy, pressing his lips against her own. "My Lily."

"Yes," Phoebe Greengrass replied softly. "Your Lily."

Later in life, when Harry Potter published his autobiography and wrote about Snape, this scene finally became clear. This was Halloween, exactly a year after the first fall of the Dark Lord, and exactly one year after Harry's father James and mother Lily died. Mourning that depressing anniversary, two witless drunks merged together for a few moments, leaving the man in utter disgust with himself as he ran away from such society, and leaving the woman to give birth exactly nine months later on July 31st.

But it would be years before Astoria learned all this. As of that moment she had to deal with a raw force casting her out of this intimate memory, back into the potion master's office at Hogwarts.

"Get out, you filthy brat!" Snape demanded angrily, flicking his wand at her instinctively. An invisible hand knocked her against a back table filled with empty potions glasses. One shattered against her hand, and a large piece of glass stuck rigidly into her wrist.

In shock, Astoria collapsed to the floor, ripping the shard out quickly as a red river of blood splashed down her pallid arm.

Snape stood quietly, watching the small girl stare at the deep gash in amazement. The realization of what had just happened, what he had just done, and to whom he did it to, hit him like his own sucker punch. He walked over to his desk and pulled out a small vial from his drawer.

"Here," he told her almost kindly. "This is Dittany. It will clean your cut and keep you from scarring."

Astoria's green eyes flickered up at him violently, and she lashed out a hand to slap the vial away from her face. She jumped to her feet and screamed. Screamed in anger, hate, and frustration. Snape backed away, unsure of what to do, the former Death Eater terrified of the eleven year old girl in front of him. Before another word could be spoken between them Astoria pushed him out of the way and ran out of his office, keeping her tears to herself until she reached her empty common room.

That had almost been eight years ago, she thought to herself. Now Snape was dead and the world was a much different place. She stared at the scar, still splashed thickly across her wrist as though just formed. At first she had wanted to keep the scar, as a way to remind him of what he had done. Now the thing just made her feel guilty, sad, and worthless.

All of the exhaustion of the day coupled with her stress filled memories washed over her. As so many feelings flowed through her she felt herself going numb as a coping mechanism. One by one her worries, fears and other emotions no longer mattered. She could hear the potion bubbling outside and her calling became ever clearer.

She placed the blade below her natural scar and placed a long perfunctory cut alongside it. As her blood flowed freely down her wrist she couldn't help but think one strange thing.

It felt good.


	11. Heroics of an Antagonist

Heroics of an Antagonist

"There's one."

Draco exhaled a sigh of relief as the thick silence was finally broken at the table. He sat at an outdoor café on Diagon Alley with Zabini, Nott and Goyle. They occasionally got together to have lunch in order to catch up and reminisce. After the war was over they had mostly gone their separate ways, but habit and an inherited camaraderie kept them in touch. Draco felt they were a rather sorry group, but they were all friends he had left from school, and he hardly felt like he was in the position to snub such company.

Goyle sat slouched next to him, his simple hollow face reflecting the same sort of forced feelings Draco felt. Although still of the brute stock verity, Goyle had lost some of his bulk. He no longer looked like the threatening bully he was so used to projecting, and now simply looked like a creature apologetic for taking up so much space. For all of Draco's financial woes, he had yet to be as bad as Goyle, who was left with practically nothing. The poor simpleton was lost, with nothing to stand on and no one to look to to be told what to do. If he wasn't so mixed up with his own problems Draco probably would have felt bad for his old crony.

Nott sat on the far end of the table, straight backed and reserved as he stared across the street with his cool hazel brown eyes. The war hadn't seemed to change Theodore much. He still stood with his quiet confidence, his keen and capable mind held quiet by his perpetual small smirk. Draco didn't know what he was doing to bring in his money; no one did. Nott was parentless and continued to live alone. All anyone knew was that he would leave for long lengths of time before returning to make some outrageously expensive public purchase. It seemed to Draco that he did this just to fuel the rumor mill and keep the idea of his success up. Whatever it was that he was doing it seemed to be working for him. His perpetual smirk seemed just slightly larger than it had at school.

Zabini lounged between Goyle and Nott, his handsome features permanently fixed in a superior stance. Blaise was by far the best off of the bunch, causing a shift in group dominance from Draco over to himself. He no longer sat back slyly, occasionally throwing his two Sickles in when attention had shifted from him for too long. Now he made it clear that he was the ruler of their little troop. Draco felt Zabini's gaze on him constantly, as if daring him to challenge the new order.

Draco did not. Although there had once been a time where Draco would have fought for his position at the top of the hierarchy fiercely, now he simply turned his head and stayed quiet. He had nothing to state his dominance, and the pecking system of his friends no longer stood at the top of his concerns. Instead he suffered through the lunch, lying about the state of his family and saying as little about his personal life as possible. Unfortunately the other three were just as tight lipped as he, and conversation quickly ran out. This caused them to revert to a game they use to play while lounging in the courtyards.

"Hmm, I'd give her a six," Zabini said dismissively after giving the young woman walking past them a look over.

"Really?" Nott asked, checking his nails. "I was thinking at least an eight."

"You always were a sucker for the blondes," Zabini scoffed. "Goyle?"

"Erm, how can you tell if she's a Pureblood?" he asked, scrambling to take another look at the girl. The rest of them rolled their eyes. It was a question he always asked. It was painfully clear how inexperienced the goon was, taking his Pureblood mantra to heart and never entertaining the idea of fooling around with anything but. It left him to lose sight of the one thing ALL girls were good for.

"Goyle, how many times do we have to tell you this? We aren't asking you to marry the thing, just how badly you'd want to fuck her," Zabini said impatiently. "You're a hopeless lug. Malfoy?"

"Seven," he replied quietly, figuring he was safest in between the two. Truth was Draco hadn't really looked. At first he had enjoyed the game; Christmas was slowly creeping upon them and there was no shortage of women to comment and fantasize about. But he quickly grew tired of such a game and had taken to slumping back, wishing this little nostalgia visit would come to an end.

"What's this now?" Zabini asked in excitement, correcting his posture as he stared out into the street. "Looks to me like we have a live one!"

Draco turned his head to the street to follow Zabini's gaze, and he felt his stomach drop. Across the lane on the pavement stood Mrs. Greengrass, walking quickly down the path as she yelled to the person behind her. Astoria stood still, arms crossed, that over indignant look splashed across her face as she struggled against her tongue.

"Please don't look over here," he muttered to himself, trying to find a way to turn without looking obvious. As does happen to all requests of the sort, Astoria immediately looked across the street, directly over to the table that held four of her old House mates. She wore new grey boots and a blood red coat that made her skin look creamy rather than a sullen yellow. Even from across the street Draco couldn't help but think she was remarkably pretty.

Astoria released a genuine half smile at seeing Draco, as though happy to see a friendly face in what Draco had to assume was one of the "catch days" of having her own flat. Under the table he gave a discrete wave in her direction. She smirked as he tried to hide his acknowledgement to her from his friends, and turned off to find her mother.

"That one I give a nine," Zabini said smugly, watching her retreat.

"You're just saying that because of the build up," Nott scoffed grudgingly. "Every bloke in Slytherin talked about getting her at one point in time."

Draco was finally taken back fully to his school boy days. He did remember that there was a bit of a contest surrounding her. She didn't flounce about flirtatiously like most of the girls in the House, nor was she a quiet prude. Even at thirteen she had carried that angry and wild energy, pushing men away why subtly leaving them wanting more. He remembered the things the boys had said they wanted to do to her, how they itched to dominate her and show her who was boss. Almost all the boys his age and older had talked about it. Even he was struck with the realization that he had tossed his own lewd statements about her during school, although only a few as his last two years he was a bit preoccupied…

A hot and intense rage filled his core at the comments of his Slytherin brothers. Despite the fact that he knew he had said worse things right to her, _done_ worse things to her, things school boys could hardly imagine, he still had to grit his teeth to keep from exploding at the memories. The inclination of anyone else even _thinking_ about her in those ways, his ways, made him murderously jealous.

_No one is to talk to her like that_, he thought possessively. _No one is to touch her._

"I got her," Zabini stated simply with a smirk.

Draco stared over at him sharply, in disbelief over what had just fallen so easily from his lips. Luckily Nott and Goyle seemed just as mystified.

"You liar," Nott called, a trace of bitterness entwined with his usual apathetic tone.

"Seventh Year," Zabini said casually, his eyes darkening at the memory. "Caught her alone in the potions lab, dragged her into the supply closet. She was a tight and angry little fuck; brilliant."

The only thing stopping Draco from lashing out across the table was the fact that his rage was so intense his body couldn't even move.

"I wonder if she still lives around here," Zabini continued. "I could sure go for another round or two. By the looks of the state of her mother she still has quite a few good years ahead of her."

A growl start rising out of Draco's throat, one that was only silenced by Nott's quick cut in of Zabini's statement.

"Come off of it, the girl is a complete psychopath," Nott proclaimed. "She's a right haughty bitch coupled with bad blood. She's not worth the time it takes to stick it in."

Though glad someone else had called Zabini out to stop talking about shagging Astoria, his anger immediately switched to Nott. Draco felt his hands twitch spastically as the crude insults hit his ears and all he could picture was wringing the boney neck across from him for speaking about her like that.

"But _you_ kissed her, didn't you Nott?" Goyle grunted. "During the Easter break our First Year."

Nott's passive face flickered in panic.

"That was years ago, in a young moment of weakness," he dismissed a little too strongly. "The girl is an abomination, totally unfit and indecent for a man like me."

Despite the words, Nott's statement was drenched in bitterness, revealing a longing that seemed to be ten years in the mix.

_Dead! _Draco thought through clinched teeth. _They both have to die. Violently and painfully…_

"It's not decency I want from her," Zabini regaled, in a voice dark enough to match his complexion.

"Whatever," Nott replied, rolling his eyes with a hint of envy. "Well we all know what Order of Obvious, First Class over here thinks about mutts. What about you, Malfoy? Fancy a go on the unhooded Dementor?"

"I think you all should grow the fuck up and stop playing this childish game!" Draco announced loudly, before his filter could stop him. His friends stared at him for a moment before they all let out a round of cruel laughter.

"That's a definite yes," Nott proclaimed, returning to his usually cool self.

"That's more than just a yes. If you really feel that strongly about it, I'll Floo her over to the Manor when I'm done with her," Zabini suggested with a malicious smirk. "I know how you've taken to scavenging after me."

Draco stood up from the table quickly, his chair falling behind him from the force. Draco's eyes glowered with a hateful intensity and for a moment he pictured blasting the faces that sat in front of him clear off the spot. Indeed, when he reached his hand inside his robes both Nott and Zabini leapt to their own feet, wands stretched out at the ready.

Instead of doing the expected, Draco simply tossed a handful of coins on the table to cover his meal. He almost marched off on the spot before his attention rested on Goyle. Relenting an inch, he tossed a few more coins on his plate, knowing that despite Nott's and Zabini's successes they wouldn't think to help him.

"I have to go," he stated coldly. As an afterthought he added an "I'll see you later," but he did not bother to stay around to see if it stuck. Instead he ran out of the Alley, his stomach sick with anger and nausea.

He of course knew Astoria was no virgin before him; that was obvious. But he never pushed the thought further to acknowledge that this meant she had been with other men…men he might know…Blaise…

The image of the two of them together, his perfect face held over her panting body as she released those irresistible moans, stared at him with that intense and intimate lusty gaze, demanding more from Zabini the way she would for him, the way he assumed she did only for him, refused to extract itself from his mind. Despite the fact that it had been over three years ago, years when they hardly even registered on each other's maps, did nothing to soothe him. The little detail that he had been the one to lay out the rules that it was merely unattached sex that they were having did nothing to placate him. He couldn't bear the thought of her calling out someone else's name, longing for some other man's prick, fucking anybody else…tucking someone else in after listening to their problems, running her hands softly through anyone else's hair, kissing any other lips in that lusty but passionate way he loved for her to do…

A chill fell through his body like ice rain. All the anger from earlier fell off as a foreign idea invaded his mind. A terrifying, forbidden idea that should never cross the imagination of a Malfoy.

He liked her.

Stumped, Draco called back on the anger. Anger he could deal with, rage he knew how to handle. He could turn around in the dark Alley and face her with those emotions. Confront her, yell at her, kick her door down in a fight, all of that he could do.

Never could he admit how desperately he just needed to see her.

He turned on the spot and marched in the direction of the Apothecary.

Hot, unyielding tears streamed down Astoria's face as she slumped helplessly over her kitchen table. Insuppressible sobs gasped out of her mouth as her body shook without control. Her head pounded in relentless agony as she tried to calm her shocked nerves, but it was to no avail. She couldn't stop.

"This wasn't how it was supposed to be," she cried miserably, casting a pathetic glance over at the perfectly simmering cauldron that perched upon one of her chairs. Now should have been a great moment, a defining moment, a _happy_ moment. Tonight was a night she had ached to live in for ages, the night where all her work and ridged planning came into effect.

Her base potion was done. But instead of reveling in the moment, all she could do was teeter on the verge of a complete meltdown.

She had left her flat that afternoon expecting to only have to suffer a few hours that day. Her mother had dragged her into going Christmas shopping, arguing that it was a precursor to the family's Christmas Eve dinner that she was required to go to. At the beginning the meeting wasn't so bad, in fact her and her mother were almost civil. For once the two agreed that the grey felt boots worn by the smiling manikin in a shop window belonged nowhere else but Astoria's feet, and her mother purchased them as an early holiday gift. They had even managed a conversation that had them both laughing merrily at one point.

But this happy mother-daughter moment was short lived. Without warning their visit turned into a vicious row, worse than any other Astoria could recall. Astoria's work, intelligence and dreams were all nastily denounced by her mother, and the daughter quickly reduced herself to slandering her mother's reputation and foolish mindset. Though hardly a new forum for the two, the emotional curses stung deeper than ever before. After a particularly nasty remark escaped Astoria's lips she was faced with a completely new reaction from her mother.

"You know what," her mother finally spat, "if that's the way you feel then fine! Don't bother coming home for Christmas. Don't bother coming home at all."

At first Astoria had proclaimed this the best Christmas gift she had ever received and she marched home prepared to celebrate the release of her burden by trying out her new potion. But when she entered her flat and absorbed her empty and impersonal surroundings, something in her cracked.

She was alone. She had spent the last eighteen years tossed aside by a mother who was disgusted by her, a patriarch who could hardly acknowledge her existence, and biological father who was terrified of her and wished she had never been born. The only member of her family who she actively loved could never even begin to understand her, and would always be under the thumb of their mother. She had no friends. The girls in her House sneered at her existence, whispering ugly rumors behind her back and even uglier threats as she passed by. The angry front she had built to survive such conditions alienated the possibility of friendships with other girls in school. Boys only ever wanted one thing from her, and even though it was the only thing she ever really wanted of them it by no means made her feel less used…

The wretched emptiness she felt inside engulfed her, teasing her with questions of her purpose and usefulness. Why stay around if nobody wants you? Why create a potion to help people when everyone despised you? Why even waste your time?

The pounding in Astoria's head grew louder, causing her to clutch her temples in pain. More tears spilled relentlessly down her face as she desperately struggled to breathe. Every part of her hurt. Every thought or memory split her brain across the seams, causing the fear and panic nestled in her chest to grow exponentially.

Unable to conquer any concrete thought but one, Astoria reached her arm out and grabbed the ceremonial knife that lay on her table. With her shaking left hand she pushed back the right sleeve of her robe. Four perfectly straight lines adorned her pallid skin, each in a different state of the healing process. She had only ever intended for there to be five marks, four of the self inflicted under her old scar. She had drawn up a schedule for the activity and had never strayed, fully intent on being as scientific as possible about the controversial idea.

What she failed to be able to explain, however, was why it had felt so good each time she had dug the blade across her skin. Though the pain from the cut was very real, a centralized part deep in her brain slipped over into ecstasy as her skin broke apart and bright red blood spilled down her arms. It was like an emotional orgasm, a strange and forbidden pleasure she had never experienced.

She pressed the blade below her most recent cut. _What's one more?_ The thought reverberated through her collapsed brain, seeing nothing wrong with the statement. The pounding in her head was so loud she felt like she could feel reverberations in her feet. Desperate for the pain to stop and have something, anything, feel good, she began to put pressure on the blade, eager for the small release.

But before she did, another thought filtered through her manic brain.

_Why stop there?_

Astoria was momentarily stunned by the thought as she watched her hand move the blade from horizontal to vertical, preparing the blade to swipe down the length of her arm to deliver a fatal blow. She had never contemplated suicide before. She was a fighter, determined to show everyone what she was worth, that _they_ were all wrong and she had just as much a right to be where she was as they did, maybe even more of a right because she worked so hard for it. The thought of taking herself out of the race went against every fiber of her being.

Except…

Astoria choked out another sob as a wave of exhaustion crashed through her. She was so tired. Every day was a new battle, a constant struggle to be the person she was and wanted to be, only to be dismissed by the very people who should accept her. The pounding in her head turned violent and a loud buzzing in her brain made it seem like she was being shouted out.

What _was_ the point, she wondered? At the moment she couldn't think of a single thing in her life to look forward to, and slowly but surely her impetuous reasoning began to declare she should just end it all. She placed the tip of her sharp knife in the center of her jagged scar, and her neurons were moments away from sending the command to slice downwards, when from all the chaos of her breakdown a single thought broke through…

The guilty look on Draco's face as he gave her a covert wave from across the street fronted itself in her mind. A spark of indulgent indignation flitted through her body, causing a smirk to spread across her face.

_What a loser_, she had thought as she had turned down the street to chase after her mother. She had harbored no desire to go across and bother him, especially given the louts he kept for company. The half-assed nervous acknowledgment had given made her laugh, and as she walked slowly down the pavement she gleefully determined how to give him shit for his cowardliness when they next met up.

That one simple pleasure seemed to be enough to pull her out of her funk and let her comprehend the madness of what she was about to do. _Of course_ she wanted to live. She was far too brilliant and far too right about everything not to. She loved dark chocolate fudge and the feeling of wet grass under her feet. She wanted to study Stonehenge and collect rare plants from the Amazon. And she wasn't about to leave Draco undisturbed. He was far too pompous to go unchallenged, too amusing when irritated to miss out on, and harbored too much untapped potential to waste on someone like Pansy.

Astoria pulled back the knife. She still sobbed, but much more softly than earlier. Her body still ached but she could at least foresee the fleetingness of the pain, and she began to move towards her room, prepared to just cry the rest of the night out, sleep until the afternoon, and test out her potion later. However her head still pounded unceasingly, and she couldn't move. More tears splashed down from the pain and her hand holding the knife began to tremble. An unfathomably loud crash filled her flat, and she winced in surprise.

Her hand jerked forward reflexively, and the knife cut a large dash across her arm, marking a diagonal tally across her four previous inflictions. She stared in shock, dumbfounded at the blood that gushed so freely, far more than any other of her wounds had. No pain registered, nor did she feel the jolt of pleasure like she had from cutting before. All she felt was a dull numbness as the shock set in, and all she could do was stare as her arm soaked itself in blood.

Astoria was dimly aware of loud external shouting. A gust of wind swept up her parchments from the door that had been blown open. Her floor shook as heavy boots stomped across its surface. The arm she was cradling was ripped away from her by a foreign hand. She looked up dimly to see a familiar face, set in an enraged expression. More shouts and insults blanketed her from the blonde intruder, but her dizzy and catastrophic mind could barely comprehend them. Her head fell down to see a silver strip of fabric, a scarf, soaked with a burning liquid dabbing frantically at her cuts.

Instantly the distant pang of pain evaporated. She felt her skin thread itself back together. The potion quickly absorbed the spilled blood on her arm, and as the scarf was pulled away Astoria stared at a slate of raw skin, completely free of any scars; opened, healing, or dead.

"It worked," Astoria was able to gasp, tears of happiness intermixing with those of distress and pain. This sobering fact was enough to pull herself out of shock, and her head snapped up as she began to comprehend just what had happened.

"ASTORIA, WHAT THE FUCK!" Draco demanded angrily. His hand remained tight on her arm as he waved the knife in her face with the other. Astoria winced at his shout, her face turning shamefully away to stare at her door. It looked like it had been blown open. As she looked back on it, some of the pounding and buzzing she had attributed to her head had actually come from Draco making a ruckus outside. Just what he was doing there she had no idea, but his forcing open her door had startled her enough in her fragile state to accidently inflict the very serious cut.

"What are you doing here?" she asked in a weak demand, unable to look into those angry grey eyes.

"Saving your life, apparently!" he shouted. He kept his grip firm on her newly healed arm, shaking it roughly.

"Look at me!" he demanded. "What the hell have you been doing to yourself!"

"I…my potion…" she stuttered, still unable to express herself or think clearly.

"Your potion? Your _potion?"_ he repeated, seething. "Astoria, you were cutting up your wrists! Do you know how _fucked up_ that is? I knew you were crazy but I didn't think you actually wanted to _kill _yourself!"

A deep and afflicting shame encompassed her as he angrily spat that last sentence. Draco's face had gone pale with fear and anger as he yelled at her, and his violent reactions forced her to confront what she had almost done. Had she really just considered doing that? The sinking pit in her stomach answered in an affirmative and her humiliation was almost complete. Almost equally distressing was that Draco had caught her in the situation mere seconds after reasoning that seeing him again was worth staying alive for.

Her shame immediately switched to rage, and she prepared to affront this intimate intrusion of both home and heart savagely.

"I wasn't trying to kill myself, you wanker!" she shouted clearly. "Your dramatic entrance startled me and I accidently cut my wrist. Your idiocy is what almost killed me."

"My idiocy? Astoria, you had four other fucking cuts on your arm! All for your fucking little experiment!"

"Excuse me, but my _little_ experiment worked perfectly, and was what saved me from your mistake!" she yelled back foolishly, knowing the statement to be both fact and total fabrication at the same time. An intense and hateful expression crossed Draco's pointed features at the accusation. He swung his arm holding the knife to the side, throwing it forcefully at the wall. Astoria stared as she watched it sink in an impressive length above the mantle of her fireplace.

"Don't you ever, _EVER_, do anything like that again, you hear me? I'm not going to let you carve up your body just so you can make a bloody point!" Draco decreed, grabbing both of her arms roughly, crushing them in his large hands.

"What the hell makes you think you can make me do anything?" she demanded, ripping her arms out of his grasp. "I don't need you, I don't need anyone! Which is a damn good thing because no one wants me anyways!"

New tears started to fall as she accidently let her personal fears out into the open. A horror filled her as her anger escaped, leaving room for her breakdown to continue. No one was ever supposed to see her like this; weak, vulnerable, and completely exposed. Especially not him.

"Azzy," Draco called lightly, his fierce expression softening into something akin to empathy.

"What the fuck are you even doing here?" Astoria demanded through sniffs, unable to garnish her words with her usual intense gusto. "Just go away and leave me alone! I don't want to see you again after what you've done to me!"

She spun around instantly and dashed into her room before he could respond. She threw herself on her bed and heaved in sobs and tears, shaking violently as she clutched her pillow.

_What have I done,_ Astoria wondered incredulously. The stress from living on her own, her potion, and her family had caused her to crack dangerously, and she had just dismissed the one person in her life who had given her any solace. She thought about the times she rushed home hastily from work just to see him, and how she always had to suppress a smile when he casually came by after a few days absence. It had inexplicably been the thought of Draco that had saved her from herself and helped remind her of all the things she had to live for.

She felt an intense pressure in her heart she had never experienced before. She longed for the man she just so hastily dismissed, and felt so pathetic that their stupid, supposedly meaningless relationship meant so much to her. Her body shook violently as she realized her abandonment issues and greatest fear of being completely alone manifested themselves into a self fulfilling prophecy. She didn't know why he had come or why he had broken in, nor did his intense and angry reaction hold any personal significance at the time of delivery, but now as she looked back on it she was able to reach a terrifying conclusion.

He cared.

He cared about her, and she had insulted him and thrown him out. Every other stress and feeling that reeled through her was pushed aside as she singularly mourned the death of that relationship. She shook silently as her stomach dropped and the pang in her chest intensified. Now she really did feel like dying, but all she could do was lay there and think about Draco.

An audible gasp escaped her lips as she heard and felt a new weight creak on the other side of her mattress. Her heart leapt as she scarcely let herself hope, though the indentation in her mattress was indisputable proof of his presence as he sat silently on her bed.

New, terrified tears fell out of her shut eyes as she struggled to keep quiet. She had probably cried more that night than she had collectively in the rest of her life, and she was horrified that Draco of all people had witnessed it. But for how much she wished no one would know about her break down, she was a hundred times more grateful that Draco was there.

In a movement just as swift as his entrance to her room, Draco threw himself fully on her bed. After a few brief moments he scooted up to her turned frame, and let his own body conform around hers. He put a timid and rigid arm around her waist, and Astoria could feel his hesitance and uncertainty, as though he hadn't the slightest clue of what to do. Astoria couldn't ever picture Draco actively comforting someone, and she had the feeling that he was just as stunned about the ordeal as she was. But as time went by and she didn't throw him off and he heard her struggle against her tears, his arm began to relax, and their pose became more natural, more comfortable.

His hand traveled up her offended arm, turning it over gently so his thumb could rub softly against the new skin of her wrist.

"Please don't do that again," he asked softly, placing a light kiss on her mussed black hair.

"I won't," she responded instantly, her voice weak from her sobs.

"And don't be so dramatic," he commanded in the same voice. "You're far too brilliant to believe all that rubbish you just spewed about no one wanting you."

A strange pang of shame and pleasure shot down her body at his words and when he drew his arm tighter to bring her closer. She had never been held like this before, and though all the mistakes and mishaps of the day were still present, they didn't seem to matter as much anymore. Her tears finally ceased as they continued to lay together, her leg entwined between his as he gently stroke her wrist. He only ever moved once, just to get her comforter and throw it over them as the cold winter air filled her flat. Instantly her eyelids drooped and she felt herself falling into sleep. Her mind did a mental check to make sure she was still placed firmly in his encasing hold, and that his warm breath still fell softly across her neck before she drifted into a swift and sweet unconsciousness.

Draco lay wide awake beside her, his mind flashing with the events of the night. He had pounded angrily on her door, knowing she was home, until something in him snapped and he forced entry. The sight of Astoria with the knife in her hand and the blood spilling down her wrist was one of the most wrenching things he had ever seen. Terror soon mixed with his preheated anger and he reacted without thought. He had gathered that her potion was one for healing, and was actually impressed at how effective it was. After he was certain the wounds were gone however, he attacked her viciously, letting his anger overtake him. As her predicament slowly unfolded the rage subsided, and he was simply filled with fear.

He knew Astoria had had a hard life, but she always seemed to be able to handle it. Hell, he even admired her for it. But it all seemed to have finally caught up to her past her ability to deal with it on her own. A strange and foreign desire to help her engulfed him as she slept peacefully in his arms. He was terrified she would hurt herself again, and had no idea how to help her or even what she needed. But his feelings for her hadn't changed; in fact he was almost certain they had just intensified. He had never helped nor wanted to help anyone before, but as he thought about how infuriatingly enchanting she was, he knew he had to do something.

He settled himself calmly and smiled as he nestled back against her. She was safe for now, and he intended on keeping it that way. 


	12. Dewy Decimal Disappointment

**(A/N: Sorry again for the delayed update. I have the worst luck with computer viruses. This one ended up costing me some money and I had to have my software wiped. Luckily I had my stories backed up but I lost Microsoft Word. Until I can afford to buy a new version of Office I have to write all my stuff on the free but far insuperior OpenOffice, so pardon me if my grammar is even worse than usual. On the bright side, here's a double update for you as once again my plan for one chapter went wayyyyy too long!)**

Dewy Decimal Disappointment

Astoria awoke to the quiet shakings issued out of her front door after being closed. Her vibrant green eyes shot open, and she immediately flipped around on her bed. All night she had stirred herself out of sleep, as one aspect or another from the past night infiltrated her dreams; her surprisingly shaking fight with her mother, her crippling breakdown, her momentary flirtation with suicide. But each time she had awaken with the beginnings of a cold sweat, she was instantly aware of the lean but strong arm draped gently over her waist, still lightly holding her wrist as the warm body pressed against hers shielded her from with bitter winter cold. And each time she had woken up discovering this she had instantly reverted to a comfortable sleep; Draco's presence casting an oddly reassuring spell over her.

She hadn't the time to ponder just what the effects of Draco's touch had meant to her until she had woken up in the morning to find him gone. She quickly flipped the covers off her bed and rushed into the living room.

Empty.

She opened her front door, shivering as the cold morning air invaded her flat. She watched the deserted alleyway as new snow began to fall, covering the indentations of boot steps that ended abruptly as the owner Disapparated to some distant destination.

Astoria slammed her door so hard a plant hanging in the back of her greenhouse crashed to the floor.

Shame, anger, and crippling hatred consumed her as she stood glaring at her wall, though she wasn't sure if the latter feeling was directed at Draco or herself. She had acted so foolishly last night on all counts, and her mind reeled quickly to shut off all of the weak feelings that had placed her in such a state. Her mental breakdown was quickly dismissed as an overreaction and a detested moment of weakness, with no future plans whatsoever to try and divulge where such feelings had come from. Her duress from her pugnacious parting with her mother quickly slipped back into a cold apathy, and she was quiet ready to write her family out of her life completely. She looked down at her wrist and tried to find a celebratory solace in the fact that her potion had worked, but quickly decided it was best to have no emotions on the matter, as her best defense against her bout with self destruction was to forget about it entirely.

And as for Draco…

Her foot stamped in rage, departing from the cool demeanor that controlled the rest of her body. She had been foolish to have acted the way she had. He had broken into her house and all but attacked her. Had anyone else done such a thing, especially witnessing what she had done, she would have cursed them into oblivion. Instead she had let her hormones and confused state take control. She had given in to the weak desire for comfort and human contact, and had abandoned logic simply because she thought it was nice to have Draco around.

Well, that ended now. Astoria Greengrass did not cry over a man. Getting distracted over a boy caused girls to settle, blocked them from their full potential. No one was worth that, especially not a sniveling tosser like Draco Malfoy. He was a selfish deserting prick, and how she had thought even for a moment, let alone an entire night, that he was worth anything past conjugal relations was perhaps the biggest mistake she had ever made.

_No matter_, she thought with a cold shrug as she returned to her room to get ready for work. _It's all over with him anyways._

By the time Astoria arrived to work she had convinced herself she was back to normal. She was fine, great even, and she was ready to focus her mind on the next, more complex phase of her potion during her down time at the Library. Fully intent on doing nothing but researching and working during her shift, she perfected her mask of usual indifference on the walk from her Apperation point to the Library. Any sign of a distressed emotion would be sniffed out by Cheri immediately. The last thing Astoria needed after such a night and morning was insufferable concern and a genuine, unwavering desire by that girl for Astoria to confront and explore her useless feelings.

But when she made it to the reference desk she found Cheri's time card untouched. An inexplicable disappointment filled her as she clocked herself in. Her eyes flitted over to the hand scribed schedule hopefully, almost as if she wanted the lightly nosey blonde to be there. Instead she saw that she would be working the desk with Neil Pratchett. She groaned in exasperation.

Neil was the third full time reference worker and technically her superior based on the grounds of seniority. He had been there for the past two years and would tell anyone who would listen about his plans to join the Department of Mysteries. However, either by comfort or rejection he stayed at his post at the Library of the Ministry, and made quite a show about enjoying being somewhat of a boss. He was mildly intelligent, but his arrogance over his elevated position over her and Cheri caused it so not even that trait was admirable. He too seemed insistent on talking to her, but unlike with Cheri Astoria had no qualms or hold backs with her tongue other than the fact that he was a boss of sorts, and perpetually tearing him a new one was probably not the smartest way to keep her job.

Noting that today was not a good day to test her insult filter, she took up the task of displaying newly arrived books on the "Freshly Arrived" table without bothering to say hello to him. She had just finished stacking the last copies of _87 More Uses for Dragon Dung _when she heard the slightly nasally voice behind her.

"I'm assuming you arranged the books like that as a joke, right?" Neil inquired.

"No," Astoria said shortly, holding back her tongue as best she could, though her tone dripped with irritation.

"Well, you have me laughing, because it looks like shit," he replied casually. "You have them set up out of call number order."

"They're on display, you dimwit! They don't have to be in any particular order as long as they're grouped by similar subject. You would know that if you didn't have your head so far up your own arse," she retaliated, still holding back the slew of insults she _really_ wanted to launch at him.

An unperfected smirk crossed his tan features at her attack.

"Tell me, Astoria, are you in love?" he inquired seriously.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" she demanded furiously. The last strings holding her cool demeanor were severed at the absurd and intimate question, and it was all she could do to not hex his eyeballs out of his skull for such impertinence.

"Are you in love, with a man?" he asked again with a casual chuckle. "I figured you must be to be so distracted that you think that the set up you developed is acceptable."

"No!" she exclaimed in extreme indignity. "And you're a bloody chauvinist pig if you think for one second that a cock is the only thing that could distract a girl. And you're a blind idiot as well!" she added.

"So you're single then?" he asked with a grin.

Astoria's mouth dropped, completely dumbfounded by the switch of direction in the conversation.

"Hmm, I take that as a yes. Well, that's wonderful news for you because I just so happen to have a dark corner table reserved at The Hippogriff Hideaway for this weekend, and you just happen to be the girl I had in mind to take."

It was a rarity for Astoria to be so taken aback by someone's brazen stupidity that she was actually rendered speechless. Usually only a blinding rage could paralyze her tongue, and though at the moment she was plenty angry, it was more her complete state of shock over Neil actually entertaining the idea that she would date him that kept her from lashing out at him more than anything else.

Luckily, someone unexpected cut in and did the verbal beating for her.

"Excuse me, but what the hell do you think you are doing?" a shrill voice demanded. Neil spun around to face the well dressed accuser. His sly face immediately switched to that of a sleazy attendant, and he added oil to his nasally voice.

"Yes ma'am, can I help you?" he asked boisterously, oblivious to the outraged look on the woman's face.

"Yes," she stated shortly. "You can help me by explaining to me just how the fuck you come off asking out my daughter in such a manner!"

"Your…your daughter?" Neil asked, stumbling upon the new information. He glanced over to Astoria, who though as shocked at her mother's appearance as he made no move to help him.

"Mrs. Greengrass…you look far too young to have a daughter Astoria's age…erm…very lovely…"

"Cut the shite," Phoebe demanded. "Who are you?"

"Neil…Neil Pratchett," he answered dimly.

"Pratchett? I've never heard of such a family," she exclaimed with pure bluntness. "And what exactly do you do?"

"I'm…I'm assistant manager of the Reference Desk here," he blurted out.

"Alright, so once again I ask how the fuck a nobody with a worthless job and no prospects gets off asking out my daughter, a _Greengrass_,on a date? Especially to such a third class establishment like The Hideaway!"

"I…I…" Neil puttered out thoughtlessly.

" I…I…I!" Astoria's mother repeated mockingly. "Don't you have some useless paperwork to do? Go on, off with you!"

"Yes ma'am," Neil replied quickly, extremely grateful for the dismissal. He quickly dived out of his position between the two Greengrasses and sped towards the safety of the Reference Desk.

"And you wonder where I get my mouth and behavioral problems from," Astoria muttered as she crossed her arms across her chest.

"Nonsense, you weren't going to accept the offer of that weak little nobody," her mother stated dismissively. "I'm in a horrid rush and have no time for incorrigible peons."

"And what exactly _are_ you doing here? Yesterday you all but exiled me from the family, and now you're here getting me in trouble at work?" Astoria asked with raised eyebrows.

"You're always so dramatic," her mother scowled. "Now get over yourself this instant and just come to the damn Christmas dinner."

"No!" Astoria replied impulsively, forgetting that it had been said banishment that had set her off earlier.

"Why must you insist on being so difficult?" Phoebe demanded. "You're going and that's final! If for nothing else remember its part of the deal of you living on your own."

"Why the hell do you care so much…?"

"Because I'm your mother, that's why!" Phoebe exclaimed through gritted teeth. Astoria said nothing to this argument, but her irritated facial expression softened minutely. Such a small alteration in looks could only be detected by the woman who had spent the last eighteen years dealing with her daughter's insolence. The gesture seemed to be noted, and the mother in turn expressed her own form of relent.

"Besides, it just wouldn't be Christmas without you sulking in the corner, only speaking when insulting your ditzy cousin," her mother added with the smallest trace of a smile.

"Just like it wouldn't be Boxing Day without you and Uncle Richard polishing of the last of the liquor cabinet to make room for New Years," Astoria replied flippantly.

"Exactly," her mother agreed in an unabashed tone. Astoria couldn't help but scowl, seeing far too much of herself in her mother than she felt comfortable with.

"I'm not going to wear a stupid frilly costume for the occasion," Astoria spat.

"I really don't give a damn what you wear. I've given up hope on you ever dressing decently," Phoebe stated with rolled eyes. "Wear what you're wearing now for all I care. Although I can't _believe_ you thought such attire was appropriate for work…"

Astoria's eyes narrowed at the backhanded insult, and she was poised to retaliate when she was interrupted for the second time that day.

"Oh Astoria, there you are," a friendly voice called out. "I hadn't seen you in awhile…"

Hermione cut herself off when she noticed Astoria was not alone. Mrs. Greengrass stared at the newcomer, first in shock, but then into a look that settled on distaste.

"Don't tell me you've actually decided to make friends now," Phoebe inquired, completely ignoring the heroine and destroyer of her elated social life.

"Why yes I have," Astoria replied, knowing the truthful answer would be the most annoying to her mother.

"Have I…interrupted something?" Hermione asked, noticing that she had just stepped into something strange.

"No, Mother was just leaving," Astoria assured with a smile.

"Are you coming or not?" Phoebe demanded in a voice very unbecoming in a library. "Tell me now so I can tell the house elves how much food to cook."

"Fine," Astoria stated simply.

Finally receiving the answer she sought, Phoebe brightened up a tad.

"Good. Be there promptly at 5:30 and plan on staying late." Without putting forth a gesture of goodbye, Phoebe turned on the spot and headed to the exit. Before she took too many steps however, her gaze once again fixed upon Hermione.

"I honestly don't know why you are so intent on irritating me," she said aloud, shaking her head before making off quickly. A sly grin filled Astoria's face at the selfish comment, and she too titled her head in disbelief.

"Er…is everything okay?" Hermione asked nervously. "I didn't just cause a fight, did I?"

"No," Astoria barked with a laugh, re-straightening a stack of books. "You were actually just a witness to my mother and me making up after the huge fight we had last night."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "That's…good…"

"I take it you actually get along with your mum," Astoria ventured.

"Oh yes. She was a bit upset at me when she discovered I altered her and Dad's memories, but we have long past that."

Astoria snorted in response, focusing her attention back to anally lining up the books just right.

"Is everything alright?" Hermione inquired after a few moments of silence. Astoria nearly jumped, quite forgetting about her addresser in the short time as she focused on her task.

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked shortly.

"Well, it's just you've been fidgeting with these books nonstop without actually doing anything to them," Hermione told gently. Astoria looked down at her hands and watched as they mindlessly lined up the stack of books over and over.

"Everything's fine!" she all but shouted. Once again it seemed a conversation with her mother had placed her into sorts, and she felt the beginning traces of panic hit her.

"Are you sure?" Hermione pressed again.

"Yes, everything is brilliant. No worries. Perfectly fine…I'm going to mutilate that rat faced bastard." That last bit of information slipped past Astoria's filter , and was presented in the same cool tone as her shrug offs that she almost harbored a hope that Hermione hadn't heard it. Unfortunately, this soft outburst seemed to be just what she had been waiting for.

"Who is this exactly?" Hermione inquired with a grin.

"Nobody," Astoria spat defensively. "A worthless, piece of shit nobody that wasn't even worth my time in the first place…I don't want to talk about this…you tricked me."

"Alright," Hermione said slyly. The two were quiet for a few more minutes before she started up again.

"You know, when Ron and I fight we usually just need some cooling off time before we can set things straight."

"He and I are not like you and Ron," she stated with a laugh. "It is..was… just a purely physical relationship. I don't give a damn about him, past the point that he insulted me, which is easily done but never the less always grounds for punishment."

"What did he do?" Hermione asked simply.

"What did he do? What did he _do?_" Astoria repeated angrily as she searched for her answer. A hefty embarrassment hit her when she finally realized she was about to say what had put her in such a tiff.

"He left," she answered quietly, hating the meek way she said the truth. She didn't know why she was telling this to Hermione. The pitying, knowing expression that crossed the girl's face didn't make her feelings go away like she wanted, didn't change any facts or alter the past. It did however, for the briefest of moments, make her feel like she was not alone, which in her confused and desperate state was at least some form of solace.

"Perhaps there is some kind of explanation or reasoning behind it," Hermione suggested.

"Sure there is," Astoria agreed with a hollow laugh. "He's a spineless git whom I never should have trusted."

"Astoria, I'm sorry…"

"Neil was right," Astoria interrupted quickly, raising her wand over the piles of stacked books. "This display does look like shit. I need to fix it."

Astoria turned her back to Hermione and began to resort the books at random. She refused to turn around, unable and unwilling to see another look of pity from the girl who for some reason sought a friendship from a witch, who for all intents and purposes, was an enemy.

"Good luck, Astoria," she heard Hermione call, a trace of sadness in her voice. Astoria did not respond, but continued to sort the books diligently.

She kept her feet firmly on the ground and her face set strongly in stone as she felt something inside of her crack.


	13. En Tequila Veritas

En Tequila Vertias

Astoria trudged home after what possibly could have been the longest shift in Wizarding history. Her feet dragged in the snow on a straight course, not bothering to weave between the crowded shoppers happily buying gifts for the approaching holiday. She harbored no cheer or good will towards man and she marched miserably to her flat.

She pictured her dark living room, her cold bedroom, the empty kitchen and her still greenhouse and couldn't help but sigh. All her life she had wanted to be left alone. She was by nature a private person, easily irritated and led into distraction by others. But by some cruel ironic twist of fate the moment she received her private sanctuary she found someone she didn't mind sharing space with. A pathetic, selfish little twit she had technically lived with for five years somehow managed to wheedle his way into her good graces and personal space. She didn't detest his continued presence and found no reason not to sleep with him on a regular basis.

A chill that had nothing to do with the snow spilled down her spine as she once again reflected over the events of the morning. She was no longer able to coldly shut out her feelings on the matter, and she let her repressed misery fill her. Sex and entertaining company aside, Astoria realized that Draco had somehow wormed his way past some of her fortifications and into a more vulnerable area. She had trusted him, let him in, and had forgotten herself to the safe feelings of his arms. There was some unforeseeable asset Draco possessed that caused her to grow docile, and now unclouded by this effect Astoria realized the foolishness of falling into an unwanted desire by a man surely incapable of safely returning the sentiment.

That he had left was probably all for the better. It ensured she not fall into the situation she had always avoided, made it so she wouldn't become dangerously attached, and protected the worn muscle that wearily circulated her diluted blood.

She took out her keys to her flat, prepared to divulge in her chocolate gelato and cheap vodka she had stowed in her freezer, when she realized her door was already opened. A steady defense washed over her initial panic, and she gripped her wand strongly, ready to protect herself and her home from the unknown intruder. She quietly pushed open the door and stepped into her flat silently, holding her wand at the ready. The light in her kitchen was on, and the tall slim figure standing by her dining room table instantly came into focus.

"_Stupefy_!" Astoria yelled, sending a jet at the intruder. The invader had just enough time to duck out of the shot, the stream of light just missing a falling blonde lock.

"Astoria!" Draco yelled in panic. "It's me!"

"I know!" she shouted back. "_Expulso_!"

Draco once again jumped just in time, the curse instead hitting her dining room chair. It exploded violently, showcasing to Draco the extreme intent of her hex.

"_Protego_!" he casted quickly, shielding himself from any further spells she threw his way.

"You bastard!" she screamed, throwing a nearby book towards his face. The novel immediately hit the shield, stopping instantly as though meeting a brick wall.

"Astoria, calm down!" Draco demanded.

"No!" she exclaimed, the rage of the morning once again encompassing her. "Now put your bloody shield down and fight me like a man, you coward!"

"I didn't come here to fight you!" he exclaimed, gritting his teeth as he focused his shield to deflect the third curse that was hurled at him. "I came here to talk."

"Talk? That's a laugh!" she scoffed. "You were out the door this morning so quick you might as well have Disapperated right out of bed!"

"I know," he replied softly, a foreign look of penitence crossing his face. "I just didn't know what else to do."

"Acknowledging your stupidity won't save you, coward!" she cried. A fierce look crossed his face as his shield vanished. He took a few marching steps towards her, his intense gray eyes never leaving her wild green ones.

"I wanted to help you, I just didn't know how," he explained firmly. "I'm not used to wanting to help people, and I didn't want to mess it up. I figured it would be better just to leave than to say the wrong thing before I could figure some things out."

"Piss poor decision," she stated, throwing her wand arm out again to assault him once more. In a flash he had his hand around her wrist, causing her wand to drop to the floor. In another instant he had her pinned to the wall, her knees and arms locked into place as he secured his hold.

"Stop trying to attack me, you bloody insufferable bird!" Draco demanded. "I came back to try and help you."

"I don't need your help, now piss off and let me go!" Astoria pulled her head back as she attempted to spit in his face. Once again his lightening quick Seeker reflexes came into play, and he clamped a hand down over her mouth to keep the orifice closed.

"Can you quit being such a contemptible bitch for a bleeding moment and just listen?" he growled. "I understand I upset you, but it was an honest mistake. Quite frankly you scared the piss out of me last night. I don't think you're suicidal, but you definitely have some serious issues I think you need to sort out. I'm not saying I'm anywhere near perfect, but I will not just stand by and let you fall apart if I can do something about it."

After his speech he released his hold on her. He scowled as he found his hand full of spit and quickly wiped it on his trousers before heading off into the kitchen. Astoria watched him retreat; angry, touched and curious as he grabbed a felt bag off the counter.

"So what, you're here to fix me?" she inquired indignantly, crossing her arms.

"I think that would take a miracle," he retorted. "I had something much more secular in mind."

Draco reached into the bag and pulled out a large bottle filled with clear liquid, accompanied by several shot glasses.

"You had all day to come up with a way to help me and you come up with getting shitfaced?" Astoria scoffed.

"Not exactly," Draco grinned. "My grand epiphany was that you probably just needed someone to talk to. But seeing as neither of us are readily capable of an intimate and personal conversation, I figured we needed an alternative route."

"Tequila," she stated in her same poise.

"Exactly," he conferred. "And to make it more interesting, and because you are a stubborn thing who won't give something for nothing, I thought we'd play a game."

"A game!" she exclaimed. "First you say I'm touched in the head and now you want to make a game out of it?"

Draco said nothing but waved his wand over the shot glasses. Two rows of ten lined themselves up on her small dining room table, and the large glass bottle settled itself in the middle.

"A game of questions," he answered proudly." We each ask each other an intimate question in turn, and the other has to answer. If the questioner is satisfied that a truthful and sincere answer was given, then they take a shot. But if they don't give a full answer or they refuse to answer the question, then the questioned has to take a shot."

Astoria was not amused.

"Do you have any idea how pissed I've been at you all day?" she demanded. "You think you can just waltz in here with your game and cheap tequila and think I'll just take that?"

"Well here's your chance to get back at me," he replied simply. "Use the information, blackmail me. You probably won't get any money but you can sure humiliate me. And this tequila is not cheap. It was given to me by Rhett Miller off his own personal ranch, and he is a direct descendant of Pecos Bill."

"Who the hell is Pecos Bill?" she demanded, taking the unbroken seat at her table.

"He was one of the greatest Wild West Wizards in America back in the 19th century. He used to ride around in a tornado and fight blaggards. Apparently even the muggles write songs and tales of him," Draco explained.

"Sounds like a tosser to me," Astoria grumbled.

"Does that mean you're in?" Draco inquired with a cocked eyebrow.

Astoria crossed her arms in answer to his question, silently reflecting on the day's events as she let him stew quietly. She had spent the morning despising him, the work day trying to forget he ever existed, and the walk home convincing herself it was for the best, her best, that they never see each other again. Her first reaction upon seeing him in her flat was to toss out every hex that crossed her mind as she raged against his invasion, and she felt nothing but pure loathing as he pinned her, practically helplessly, against her own wall.

Yet something about his cool determination stopped her from dismissing him outright, and she was able to see beyond his bravado back to the startling point she had stumbled across last night. He actually cared

"You aren't a chicken, are you, Greengrass?" he inquired with his sly smirk.

_Forget caring,_ she thought with her own simper. _The bastard __gets__ me._

_ "_Bring it on, arsehole," she grinned, sitting back casually in her seat. Draco kept his smirk as he waved his wand over her exploded chair, causing it to jump up right and reform into its original state. Sitting back confidently without testing the security of his magic, Draco went about pouring the liquor into their individual shot glasses.

"Let's have a toast to our game, and let the best man win by not puking first," Draco regaled.

"Charming," Astoria stated sarcastically. "I still don't see what good any of this will do."

"We just need to talk. Those liberal poofs and common wisdom dictates that 'talking about your feelings' does something. Besides, remember the saying: _In Vino Veritas. _ In wine there is truth. Although in this case I think it's more like _In Tequila Veritas_."

Without another word Draco raised his glass in a cheer. Astoria mimicked dimly, not believing in his logic but following him none the less. He seemed confident and so radiantly sure of himself she couldn't help but follow despite all the negative things she felt for him. Besides, what did she have to lose?

They both raised their glasses, slamming them on the table in respects to the non-existent bartender, before shooting back the clear liquid in one gulp.

"Blimey!" Draco exclaimed through a round of coughs. "This stuff is no joke!"

"So how do you want to start this?" Astoria asked, ignoring the burning in her throat.

"You're the guest of honor. Go ahead, ask me a question," he stated.

"I'm really not interested…Oh, fine!" she exclaimed, rolling her eyes at the look he gave her. "Erm, what did you do with yourself when you were on house arrest?"

"That's all you got?" Draco inquired cockily, raising an eyebrow.

"Just answer the bloody question before I change my mind and call the Enforcers on you," she demanded with a scowl.

"Alright, alright," he contested, throwing up his hands. "I bored myself to death, mostly. I read a lot, and I mean _a lot,_ mostly about business but some prose and poetry as well. I flew a little, but I was restricted from going past the grounds so I couldn't risk flying too far. I looked over the family finances and figured out ways to keep us a float while paying off all of our fines. And just spent time with my mother, I suppose. She was in a right state with my father back in Azkaban."

"What a momma's boy," she yawned, swirling her next shot in hand. Draco frowned.

"Some of us actually like our mothers," he retorted. "There's no reason to be bitter."

"Alright," she waved dismissively. "And was that really all? I feel the need to take a shot due to the boredom of your answer, but I have the feeling there is something else."

"I suppose there is," he replied, looking down somewhat sheepishly into his lap. "I wrote a piano concerto…and yes it was for my mother before you snidely ask."

Astoria stared at him strangely for a moment before she spoke.

"I didn't know you played piano," she said softly. "Let alone that you knew enough to compose something."

"Yeah, well, it's not something that usually comes up," he answered, running his hands through his hair uncomfortably.

"Is it any good?" she asked in the same mild and genuinely inquisitive tone.

"My mum seemed to like it, though she's my mother so she's hardly unbiased," he explained flatly.

"How creative of you," she stated without a sneer, taking her shot glass and throwing it back in satisfaction.

"Alright, my turn," he said eagerly. "Did you really shag Zabini?"

Astoria all but spit her recently swallowed shot out at the unexpected question.

"So that's what you boys were gossiping about the other day," she replied with a cocked eyebrow.

"Answer the question," he urged seriously.

"Oh alright. Yes, we fucked. My fifth year in the potions lab," she stated.

"Fuck," Draco sighed, slamming his elbow on to the table, causing the crystal shot glasses to ring.

"Why Blaise?" he inquired, though the question seemed to cause him something akin to pain.

"I don't know," she shrugged. "He was hot, he was there, he wanted to…I mean a girl has to lose it to _someone, _might as well be the most attractive guy in school."

"You lost your virginity to him!" Draco exclaimed in an outset.

"I didn't lose anything," she replied with a silly grin. "I was tired of having it and found a convenient means of throwing it away."

"But to Blaise? I thought you hated him!" Draco implored, unable to let this topic go.

"I don't hate him, I nothing him," she cleared. "I don't know why you're getting your knickers in a twist, it didn't mean anything. It wasn't even very good. He was a little too 'excited', if you know what I mean. After those sweaty three and a half minutes I didn't really ever see a reason to talk to him again."

"You shag any of my other mates in the faculty lounge?" he inquired with a scowl, holding the shot glass up to his lips.

"Depends on who you consider a mate," she replied without skipping a beat, an amused grin plastered to her face.

Draco took his shot with a scowl.

"Speaking of first fucks, what's the deal with you and Pansy?" Astoria asked, dropping her head to the side.

"What do you mean?" he inquired in a stall, placing his empty shot glass rim down.

"You know what I mean," she pressed. "You don't even seem to like her, in fact it almost looks like you hate her, but you have been 'dating' her for Merlin knows how long. Why?"

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "She was always just kind of there. I made the mistake of shagging her after the Yule Ball and I was just stuck with her. Sometimes it was alright, it's nice to know that someone will be there no matter how badly you treat them. But most of the time that just makes me want to treat her even worse. If I can get away with it and she'll still fuck me, why not?"

He paused for a moment, twirling his wand around in contemplation at his treatment of her.

"I suppose part of me should be grateful for her. She kind of supported me through my 6th year and visited me often when I was on house arrest. But those are things she never lets me forget. She's so clingy and over barring it makes me sick," he spat.

"Have you and she seriously talked about…marriage?" Astoria asked quietly, peering into her own shot glass instead of his face.

"I hardly ever see her," he snorted. "But I really have to figure a way around those nefarious nuptials soon. I guess the problem is that once upon a time I liked parts of her, and then it turned into wanting her around so I wouldn't be alone, and now that I'd rather be alone than be with her she's sort of become an unwanted habit or a tumor on my life that I can't remove."

"There's always away to remove unwanted things in your life," she stated determinedly, almost talking to herself as much as he. "Especially when you're young."

She accentuated her belief by throwing back her third shot without flinching, the sting from the strong liquid no longer burning as her throat became properly numbed.

"Well, I suppose if we're feeding off one another's questions and if you feel so strongly about what you just said, then answer me this: why do you bother with your family if you don't want them?"

Astoria snorted, running her fingers through her inky black hair as she searched her buzzing brain.

"I guess because they aren't entirely unwantable. Is that a word?" she asked, a sweet and uncharacteristic giggle escaping her lips.

"For this conversation, yes," Draco allowed with an endearing smile, already lining up his shot as he felt assured a proper answer.

"I don't know. My mother is a complete bitch who has totally fucked up my life. She is just so…so…stuck on her stupid nonsensical values that don't apply to me cause I don't give two damns about it," she rambled, the affects of the shots hitting her more.

"But, despite all the shite, she is still my mother. I mean, look how upset I got last night! Part of that was her. And she came this morning to drag me off to that stupid Christmas dinner and makes me go to all the other stuff I hate…but she's always there. She's my mother," she stated, her last three words summing up her feelings on the matter.

"And everyone else?" he asked with a cocked eyebrow, ready to get more out of her and space out the time between his shots.

"Daphne I love more than anything, _anything_, in the world. But she doesn't understand me, we're just on different levels. Helios, father, whatever…he's kind of a sluggish, controlling fiend but he could have been a lot worse to me considering, and I suppose there is some fondness there. Uncle Richard was never cruel to me, though he was always gone on business. Aunt Acacia is a smug, pretentious half-wit who can't see past her own nose, but she's a bit afraid of me so we don't really have a problem…I guess when it comes down to it the only member of my family I really hate is that cancerous habit of yours, Pansy. She's pure loathsome evil wrapped in a pink bow for you," Astoria described.

"But her tits are brilliant," Draco added as he drained his shot. Astoria stared at him indignantly over his lewd comment with hazing red eyes before she asked her own question.

"And what about your family then?" she demanded, no longer looking as amused as she had earlier.

"What about them?" he replied defensively.

"What's the deal with you and your Dad?" she reframed simply. Draco sighed. His father was the last thing he wanted to think about as he rapidly approached a state of drunkenness.

"Same as you and your mum, I expect," he stated with a shrug. "He's my father."

Astoria raised a thick black eyebrow to his general answer, swaying gently in her chair as she reached across the table with a pointed finger.

"Don't bush around the beat," she decreed with slurred enthusiasm. "Now out with it!"

Draco couldn't help but be amused by her intoxicated euphemism, and tried to get the room to stop spinning long enough for him to answer.

"When I was little, all I wanted to be was him. All I wanted to do was what he had done," he began. "And then a fucking resurrected devil branded my arm after threatening to kill my family and ordering me to destroy the most powerful man on Earth. Surviving shit like that, no thanks to Father, tends to change perspectives."

"And what...what are you...what about right now?" Astoria asked, holding on to the bridge of her nose as if to keep it pinched to her face.

"Fuck him," he spat in inebriated anger. "He's too damn stubborn and too bloody cowardly to live in a world where he isn't handed an elevated status. Somewhere someone in our family once managed to climb out of wizarding oblivion to get us rich and ahead of everyone else! That Malfoy helped write the old rules and made damn sure everyone followed! Well it's a new fucking millennium with a new fucking oblivion to be sunk to. But damn it all if there isn't some way for us to pull ourselves back out of the pit, and I'm fucking determined to find it. And fuck him for trying to hold me back!"

Draco pounded his fist on the table, knocking over his three used shot glasses to the floor.

"A rousing and admirable speech," Astoria replied. "A bit too 'machismo' for my taste, but I agree to the overall message." She then took her next shot quickly, swallowing it in one gulp before banging it on the table.

"I don't think I can do any more of these," she groaned. "That has to be the strongest liquor I've ever had."

"Don't be such a First Year," Draco scoffed. "I promise I won't let you get alcohol poisoning, I brought the Safety Potion just in case."

"I don't care," she groaned, throwing her head in her hands.

"Nonsense, it's my turn to ask a question anyways. All you have to do is answer and you won't have to drink for awhile."

Astoria released another moan in stubborn agreement.

"Good," Draco grinned, ready to inquire about an intriguing topic now that he was guaranteed an answer.

"What did Snape say about you being his daughter?" he asked, focusing his eyes and releasing a victorious smirk over her.

Astoria's head quickly shot out of her hands, and a clear and angry look shone across her strong face.

"Fuck you," she spat, grabbing the bottle out of turn and filling up her own shot glass.

"Touchy subject, eh?" he asked with a sneer, though part of his mind did begin to worry about her rate of consumption. Though a heavy drinker like himself she was scrawny, a female, and now two shots ahead of him. He dipped down in his robes to make sure his Safety Potion was in reach, hoping the remedy would save her like it had him in a handful of his own desperate situations.

"Your Dark Mark," she inquired with a soft yet surprisingly steady voice. "What was it like?"

Draco hesitated, wondering if he too should opt out on an answer. Yet her green eyes flicked over him with sincere concern, and he found himself actually wanting to talk to her about the experience.

"Terrifying," he said simply. "I don't believe there is another word to describe it. Being around Him was always terrifying, you can't even imagine... Being inducted into the Death Eaters had been my inherited dream, and I was so excited that I was being given a chance to prove myself, to save my family and way of life. I had never wanted anything so badly...but even then, when I had to actually get it, when I had to stand in front of Him, expose myself, be _touched_ by him...I think I felt a flash of my foolishness and failed destiny even then, despite it taking two years for me to realize it."

"And now?" she asked, eyes still intently focused upon him.

"Now it is a constant reminder of my failings and my nightmares," he summed up simply.

Astoria blinked hard, turning her head away quickly as though to hide something. At first Draco thought she was ashamed, and an abrupt self-consciousness overtook him, making him feel weak and vulnerable.

Slowly Astoria returned her gaze upon him, a serious but unreadable look in her eyes. She reached out her hand and lay it upon his inner arm, grasping just below the Mark. She kept her grip on him as leaned across the tiny table, and without further hesitation she placed a kiss directly upon the spot covered only by the thin fabric of his long sleeved shirt.

Though an exceedingly drunken thing to do, Draco couldn't help but be touched by the sentiment. Astoria remained leaned over, as though she were about to pass out right onto his arm. He gently removed his limb and used it to pull her chair closer to him, allowing her to crash her head properly against his shoulder, her face buried into his neck as she all but joined him in his chair.

"I just thought of my new idea," she slurred, her musings vibrating pleasantly against his neck.

"And what is that?" he inquired, closing his eyes and resting his head against hers.

"I need to take my shot," she replied, reaching out clumsily for the bottle and shot glass.

"Let me," he insisted quickly. Using his free arm he placed a small splash, barely a swallow, into one of the remaining glasses.

"Cheater," she decreed with a smile, taking her sip before letting the glass fall to her carpeted floor.

"My turn, and final question," he stated, returning his head to rest upon hers. "What happened to you last night? Why did you fall apart like that?"

Astoria was silent for a few moments, causing Draco to fear she might have fallen asleep.

"What else are you supposed to do when you feel worthless?" she inquired solemnly.

"Azzy, you are far from worthless..."

"I know that," she assured quickly. "It's just hard a lot of the times. I've had to deal with a lot of shit because of what I am and what I'm forced to pretend to be. Most of the time I'm grateful for the struggle because its made me who I am, but sometimes I just wish I was one or the other, and not just a lie."

Draco felt himself go ridged with guilt, and suddenly he wished he hadn't constructed this little game. He was the last person alive who should be sought out to be comforted on this matter. A matter for which he had once dedicated his life to perpetrating, a matter he had once sworn he would kill for. A girl shouldn't be left seeking solace in the arms of someone who had lent a huge hand in her pain and humiliation. A girl shouldn't have to drunkenly confess to her torturer all the hidden pain he had successfully inflicted.

But she was. She remained steadfastly at his side, half conscious and completely vulnerable. Draco found himself hoping that this open trust in someway had something to do with something he had done, something he had earned, rather than simply the alcohol doing all the talking.

Unable to search his muddled brain for a response, he poured himself a double shot in a small punishment, relinquishing himself to the drunken logic that he _really _accepted and understood her answer.

His silent punishment was broken by that uncharacteristic giggle Astoria released, and he looked at her inquisitively as she chuckled relentlessly in his arms.

"What's so funny?" he asked, totally bemused by her actions.

"I can't believe you referred to marrying Pansy as 'nefarious nuptials'," she responded in a howl, her laughing growing harder by the minute.

"That's how I refer to them in my head...everything sounds better when placed in alteration... Merlin you're a bitch..."

Astoria continued her rousing laughter, shaking so hard she rolled off Draco's shoulder and fell to the floor. Before Draco could react, either to help her up or serve her right, she grabbed on to his hand and pulled her down with him.

"Ouch! Dammit, woman!" he exclaimed loudly over her continued laughter. He tried to roll away from her and get to his feet, but every time he rose his head he felt the room spin violently and the contents of his stomach began to jump to his throat.

"I...ger...bugger!" he announced, reverting back to his place on the floor. Accepting his place for the night, he reached out his long arm and tugged on the quilt that hung off the back of her couch. He threw it over himself, paused for a moment, rolled his closed eyes, and spread the rest of the blanket over her still giggling form.

"I hope you're happy," he muttered. "We're fucking stuck on the floor for the night."

"I'm never happy," she replied cheerfully.

"You know, with all we've had to drink and how bloody cold it is we'll probably die of hypothermia tonight," he muttered, pushing his body up against hers, snaking his arm around her waist.

"Bully for us, then," she responded with a smile, her laughter finally calming down.

The two of them laid quietly in the dark, only the sound of their ragged breathing breaking the perfect silence of the night. Astoria was filled with the urge to fall asleep immediately, wanting nothing more than to fall into a deep unconsciousness, nestled in a natural warmth of body contact.

Well, almost nothing more.

"Draco?" she inquired suddenly, a new urge submerging over the want of sleep.

"Hmm?" he grunted, on the brink of consciousness himself.

"Why did you come back?" she asked quietly. "Why did you do all this?"

A short silence filled the room as Draco remained still. Then he wrapped his arm tighter around her waist, bringing her in as close to himself as possible.

"I had to," he stated simply. "Who else is going to look after people like us?"

Nothing more was said between them that night, and shortly after completing his sentence Astoria heard his deep breaths of sleep. Breaths that despite weeks of sexual contact she was only hearing intimately for the second time. She tried to think rationally about his answer, to figure out exactly what it meant. But such a task was impossible in her state.

Instead she pulled away from the comfort of her brain and listened to what the poor, worn muscle circulating her diluted and alcohol soaked blood had to say.

Smiling, she reached out for the fallen bottle of tequila that had been all but emptied in their escapades, and in respects to the rules of the game she took her final shot in acceptance before coldly passing out in Draco's warm arms.

(**A/N: Just a PS to this chapter, neither of them died or got alcohol poisoning. They are just going to be very, VERY sick in the morning ; ) ) **


	14. Insert Clever Chapter Title Here

Insert Clever Chapter Title Here

(_**A/N: Another double update. I'm just gonna stop apologizing for my long chapters. Y'all have probably figured out by now this is going to be a lengthy story. Hope you're okay with that!) **_

Draco couldn't get Astoria off his mind.

It was all he could do to keep from zoning out during the conversation he was having as his thoughts drifted over towards her and her flat. He recalled opening his eyes as the bright sun invaded her small living room through the greenhouse, feeling her squirm loosely under his arms. Squinting, he had watched with a pounding headache as she crawled towards her desk, fidgeting briefly with the bottom drawer before turning around and collapsing right back beside him. She had taken a liberal swig from a small container before passing it over to him. After holding a thought about _never_ wanting to have another drink of _anything_ ever again, Draco had drained the rest of the liquid. Instantly his splitting headache had evaporated, as did the pressure in his abdomen and his need to relieve himself.

"Damn you brew a good hangover potion," he muttered, letting his head drop back down on to the ground.

"Of course I do," she replied flippantly, climbing gracefully to her feet. "I brew every potion well."

Draco then proceeded to roll his eyes at her pompousness and reverted to thinking about himself. Though free from the pains of intoxication he still suffered from a night slept on a hardwood floor with only a thin blanket and another body for warmth. Having never slept under such poor conditions and used to getting a proper night's sleep he was prepared to lay around lazily, hoping to move to the sanctuary of Astoria's surprisingly comfortable bed. He was therefore irritated to discover that his sleeping partner seemed to be of the early bird variety, and had already begun making a racket in the kitchen.

Groaning irately he climbed to his feet, prepared to argue with her over the noise when he caught sight of her. She had donned a black apron tied tightly around her waist, accentuating her supple curves in a way her work clothes from the day before could not. He watched her as she stood on her tiptoes to grab this-or-that spice from the cupboard above her, bowls and a carton of eggs already laid out on the counter. He was suddenly hit with the realization that though he had spent the last two nights in a row with her, the first two nights he had ever literally slept with her, he had done no more to her than lay his arms around her and kiss her hair.

Discarding his original desire for sleep he swiftly walked into the kitchen and placed his hands on her accentuated waist, grabbing her hips firmly before slowly wrapping his arms around her. She promptly ignored him though he could tell by the slight movement of her ears that she was smiling. He proceeded to brush his lips lightly against the skin of her neck, never actually placing a kiss despite the movement. She shivered as his warm breath spilled down her nape and he released his own grin as he buried his face in her clean smelling hair.

"I never knew someone could look so sexy in a little apron," he muttered, his hands lightly cascading down her sides.

"Once again you shamelessly underestimate me," she replied, her tone steady despite the fact that he could feel the heat radiating out of her cheeks. "Besides, I needed to throw something on to cook us breakfast."

"I thought you said you didn't cook for men," he reminded, lightly tugging on the black straps of the garment.

Astoria had paused for a moment over the range, looking down at the frying pan that had begun to heat up with a thoughtful gaze.

"I don't cook for boys," she corrected lightly, placing her hand softly atop his. She turned around, bracing herself against the counter as she stared at him seriously.

"But a man I'll cook for," she finished with the smallest of smirks. A wave of hard earned pride washed over him as he absorbed the statement, and a full smile illuminated his face. Astoria had just enough time to start to laugh before his lips began to devour her's in a rough force.

Pinned up against the counter, Draco somehow managed to peel off her clothes while keeping the trouble-starting apron wrapped tightly across her body. Her hands fell from their position around his neck shamelessly down to his trousers. He held her sides and slipped his thumbs behind the thin fabric, rolling them across her breasts in a gentle movement as she made quick work of his belt. Once freed, her hand swiftly slipped passed the band of his boxers and began to rub his already stiff prick. She moaned as he kissed her deeper, encouraging her in her skilled movements. She broke away from him, panting, and stared down at the member in her hands as it grew with each stroke. The look in her intense green eyes was sparked with lust and she gazed at his cock greedily, as though she couldn't possibly desire anything more than she did him.

That ego inflating notion was all the foreplay he needed, and he quickly pushed her back against the counter. He slapped his hand against her thigh and tugged upwards. Following his lead she leapt up, wrapping her legs around his flushed torso and bracing herself against the prep space. In mere moments he was successfully rocking into her, pounding her ass against the silverware drawer that clattered upon each hearty thrust. No protest was administered to this position. Instead Astoria stretched out her legs, bracing her feet across the narrow kitchen space and resting them against the adjacent counter. He marveled for a moment at her lower body strength as he fucked the practically levitating girl as hard as the position allowed him. She shot her breath out in rapid spurts, her moans more vibrant than usual. He liked to believe that his bucking thrusts and skilled hands caused the change in dynamics, though a nagging part of him felt that her concentration was focused on her balance and not holding back her volume in her usual infuriating attempt to downplay his affect on her. Nevertheless her sharp, lustful gaze never strayed from her face as she remained propped across her tiny kitchen, and his name tumbled from her swollen lips as he managed to slip his hand between her thighs.

"Draco, fire," she gasped, the words slightly choked as her climax washed over her. Draco perked his head curiously, grinning at the odd but none the less intriguing way she expressed her pleasure.

"Draco, fire!" she repeated in a calm alarm. His senses were immediately dragged back to reality as he felt the heat from the flames behind him.

"Shit!" he cursed, the predicament finally sinking in. In a swift motion Astoria's arms clasped around his neck as she pulled her feet away from the burning stove. Draco turned quickly, grabbing Astoria's slender Australian Blackwood wand off the counter.

"_Aguamenti_!" he cried, causing a jet of water to put out the rolling flames devouring the makings of their breakfast. He flicked her wand again to turn the range off completely. For a moment the two looked at her kitchen wall above the stove. Smoke had damaged the wallpaper and the flames had burnt through a portion of her spice cabinet, but it was nothing a few spells couldn't take care of.

Draco felt his heart beating with adrenaline, and he turned his attention back to the witch wrapped around his body. The witch that, despite the upset, he was still inside. They both released their best smirks before they crashed their lips back against each others. He wasted no time taking advantage of his new leverage and he swiftly laid her on the opposite counter, climbing on top of her to finish what he had started, pausing only to place his hand behind her head as it was in danger of hitting the sink faucet as he thrusted into her with an excited force.

It was this scene that had been replaying in his head for the past two days, and despite having both lived and wanked to it several times the memory still made him hard.

Unfortunately his most recent playback had taken place during a droning conversation, and he had gotten himself so lost in the memory he hadn't thought to hide his physical signs of excitement. Luckily it was during a private and intimate setting, so it wasn't like an adolescent school boy going off in the library after coming across his first naked picture. It did, however, lead to a compromising and unwanted complication.

"Oh, Draco! Fuck, Draco!" Pansy cried, gripping her hands against her living room couch. Draco grunted, holding on to her hips fastidiously to keep her placed on her hands and knees.

It was Christmas Eve morning, and Draco had been sent by his parents to call on Pansy and exchange gifts before they each split off to their own family obligations. Draco had hoped whatever his mother had bought would keep the silly girl entertained long enough for him to be able to go home without really having to talk to her. This backfired however as his mind and other parts of his anatomy had slipped to recalling his fetching memory as Pansy prattled on and on about the gift. She noticed, and Draco had to work quickly, lying with lament about how long it had been since they had been together before she eagerly flew on top of him.

She was a ridged and dreadful bore, and he felt himself in danger of getting soft as she bounced on him in a sloppy grind. He worked quickly to get her bent over, completely submissive to his commands. He yanked off her dress in a quick movement, slid his hand between her thighs to make sure she was wet enough, and pushed himself in.

Draco Malfoy was no nancy boy. He loved women, he loved fucking. This had been an undeniable fact his whole life, cemented at the age of 14. But something about this romp felt off. He felt the slightly guilty feeling one gets after eating too much junk food, and his stomach turned in the same sickly way.

He reached underneath her and squeezed one of her full breasts firmly. Pansy's tits were large and shapely, just the way he liked them. It had been ages since he had grasped one like her's, and he twisted his hand and squeezed them in over-indulgence. He thought about flipping her over and sliding his cock between them the way he loved to do, the way he would never be able to do with Astoria's small breasts.

A second wave of sickness hit him as he thought of her. He removed his hands from Pansy's tits, placing them firmly back on her hips. Pansy may have been delightfully top heavy, but her hips were straight and her ass bony. He thought of Astoria's full hips and plump backside, perfect for digging his grip into, perfect for him to grind his torso against.

Draco shook his head and reminded himself not to be such a sentimental fairy. He picked up the pace, repeating the phrase "sex is sex" in his head as he worked to keep himself going. He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, inhaling Pansy's scent as he did so. It was a strong flowery perfume; expensive, and not at all objectionable. It was the unsubtly sweet scent women were supposed to smell like. It was a far cry from the complex blend of leaves, citrus and the other zesty clean scents emanated by Astoria due to her cleansing potion. Her ingenious cleansing potion she needed for her oily, sullen, broken skin. Skin unlike the perfectly pink, unblemished cover owned by the witch who moaned a bit too loudly in front of him. Astoria's skin wasn't treated to be soft, wasn't silky. It was flawed; flawed like her blood, her eyes, her attitude, her family, her everything.

Yet he couldn't help but think about how it felt under his fingertips, how it reacted to his touches, his bites and kisses. He thought about the way it stretched smoothly over her wide hips, the salty way it tasted as she clutched against him, the way it flushed as she climaxed, the way it shone when she smiled.

Draco felt his heart pump rapidly as he approached release, and he squeezed the hips in front of him as he prepared to cum.

"Oh, fuck, Azzy...Pansy!"

The blood drained out of Draco's face as he caught his mistake. Luckily Pansy was too busy moaning herself, in response to either a real or fake orgasm in concert with his own. Draco quickly pulled away to the far side of the couch, staring at the woman in front of him with a hateful disgust. Pansy seemed unphased, deaf to his cry of another woman's name similar to her own. She flipped around and beamed at him, her eyes doughy and her smile sickeningly sweet. Draco launched to his feet, grabbing his boxers and trousers off the floor and donning them quickly, turning away from the adoring gaze that made him want to gouge her eyes out.

"Oh, Draco! That was amazing, as always," she proclaimed through a high pitched giggle. Draco sneered and rolled his eyes, ignoring her as she slid down the couch. It was all he could do to keep still as she grabbed the edges of his unbuttoned dress shirt, and he worked to suppress a disgusted loathing as she ran a well manicured finger down his chest.

"Darling, where are you going off to so fast? Don't you want to stay? My parents will be gone all morning," she purred, tugging him closer.

"I have other engagements," he replied coldly, pulling himself out of her grip. "We both do."

"And I could absolutely kill Mummy for making me go to this stupid family dinner instead of being with you. I hardly ever see you!" she whined, causing him to grimace.

"Well, that's life," he stated gratefully, eyeing the exit in front of him.

"I just think it's in awfully bad taste of Mother to do this to us. I mean, were practically engaged, what's the point in separating us?"

Draco snapped his head back to her quickly, mouth dropped and eyes wide at her statement.

"Oh Draco, don't looked so shocked, you don't have to pretend any more," Pansy giggled happily, standing up and wrapping her arms around his neck. "We both know the wheels have been set in motion, our fathers have conferred, it's as good as done. So why don't you save your beautiful bride and take her with you to your place for Christmas. Save me from my wicked, stupid mother."

"No," he exclaimed swiftly, shrugging off his choke hold. Pansy's smile stumbled and her giant eyes began to twinkle with worry.

"Why...why not?" she breathed shrilly. Draco pursed his lips together. He couldn't tell her off, not yet. He had to find away to get out of this situation delicately, or else he would hear no end of it. If he screwed up his father would make sure he paid, either by forcing him to marry her now or betrothing him to some other wretched girl.

"Because Miller is coming to dinner, and Father has important business to discuss with him. It's very important but very boring. I'd hate to see you not enjoy yourself," he replied smoothly. Draco hoped his lie would take, though he was certain the small grimace-passing-for-smile on his face betrayed him.

"Oh, darling, you are so sweet and thoughtful!" Pansy beamed, launching herself back on to him. Draco's sigh of relief was knocked out of him as she clutched to him tightly. He placed his hands gently on her skinny waist and pushed her away slightly, subtly trying to get some space and get the hell out. He had already gotten himself out of one tricky situation delicately and he needed to get himself away from her before she placed him in another.

"I know! Why don't you come to dinner with me and my family!" she squealed. "That would really show Mummy! I know my extended family is completely wretched and scandalous, but after all they're going to be you family too someday..."

"Never!" Draco all but shouted in panic, knocking Pansy's death grip off him. Pansy stumbled and found her feet, completely shocked by his emotional outburst.

"What do you mean, 'never'?" she demanded, her eyes wide.

Draco took in a ragged breath. He had acted out of an intense and stressful impulse. He could _not_ go to that dinner with her, with her family, with Astoria just down the table as Pansy clutched his hand and tried to feed him his dinner. He couldn't handle that, couldn't put her though that, and he knew that whatever it is that he and Astoria had wouldn't survive such an ordeal.

"Draco, answer me!" Pansy demanded, stomping her foot in tantrum. Draco looked back at her, his mind whirling for some lie to smooth things over, to keep things safe. There had to be something he could say that could keep up the status quo. This horrible, life sucking status quo that kept him from going anywhere in his life, that kept him tied to a deadweight plan that was slowly but surely suffocating him. Something...something...something...

_Fuck it._

"They will never be my family," he said clearly. "You will never be my family."

"Draco...darling, don't be silly," Pansy expressed with a wavering voice. "Of course I will be, we're going to be married..."

"No," he stated firmly, the word slicing through the air. "I will never marry you."

"I don't...I don't understand!" she exclaimed, clutching her chest in a sob as she all but collapsed on the couch. "Where is all this madness coming from?"

"From a long string of other madness," he explained with a softened expression. "My father has been unkind, to both of us. I tried to be obedient, but I can no longer stand by and let him destroy our futures. I mean, you don't want to marry me. I'll make a horrible, undoubtedly unfaithful, most likely abusive husband who will just..."

"This is impossible!" Pansy wailed, and Draco noticed for the first time the stream of tears running down her pug like face. "The crystal ball told me you and I would be family!"

"What?" he inquired, his brow furrowing. Pansy stood up dramatically, sticking her smeared face into his own.

"Third Year in Divination! I asked the crystal ball about our future together and it told me we would be family! Professor Trelawney confirmed it!" she cried.

Draco's stomach fell into his pelvis. Could that be true? Was he destined, fated to marry the witch in front of him? The idea made him sick.

"See!" she chuckled in a heartless laugh. "You know you can't escape it! Why bother?"

Draco's eyes snapped to attention and a cool anger fueled his body.

"I'm done with having wispy prophesies rule my life," he sneered. "I'm not going to be lead into a lifetime of up-most unhappiness just because some silly thirteen year old girl and a brainless crackpot saw something about family in an oversized marble."

"You'll be nothing without me!" Pansy screamed, eyes filled with rage. "You and your whole pathetic family are doomed to the gutter without me and my fortune. Doomed to an eternity of rotting into oblivion all because you've fallen into some kind of Muggle-loving romantic mindset of...what...true love? Returning to glory with your own hands? A miracle? Well trust me, Draco Malfoy, you aren't worth a fucking miracle, your hands are too blood stained to climb back to the top, and no one will ever, EVER, love you. I am your only hope."

"And what does it say about you when I accept all that and I still don't want to marry you?" Draco asked calmly. As expected, Pansy's haughty face fell into soul crushing defeat. He remained unphased by her upset, having heard nothing from her he didn't already know. He was unmoved by her tears, knowing any mock kindness would lead into false hope, and instead he let himself be fueled by his apathy for her and the relief he felt for finally making a move on something.

"You'll get over this someday," he said emotionlessly, turning around and heading to the door. He heard a loud wailing sob, a scuttle on a table, and a moment later a large crash as a hurled decorative vase collided against the wall a foot away from his head.

_Lucky for me your aim isn't nearly as good as your cousin's_, Draco thought with a smile as he exited Parkinson Park for the final time.

* * *

Unfortunately his smile didn't last him long. He spent the next few hours wandering aimlessly, thinking about his life and the future consequences of his actions. His break up with Pansy wouldn't stay private knowledge for long, in fact he was certain his father already knew. There would be hell to pay for this, and though he had lived in fear of this position for quite sometime he felt strangely serene now that he was placed in it. He didn't care what he had to do to make sure of this, but he would not marry Pansy nor anyone else if he didn't want to. He was no longer driven to do things for the Malfoy cause if it made him miserable. He would do whatever it took to get the things he wanted in life, and now that he was free from the shackles of unwanted matrimony he was finally able to clearly sort those things out:

1. He would find a way to make enough money to support his mother and himself.

2. He would learn to accept living a lifestyle where he wasn't on top as long as he was free.

3. He would get his father to accept that he was his own man, even if it meant cutting him out of his life (though he would prefer it if he didn't have to.)

4. Nothing would get in his way of what he wanted if he had the power to overturn it.

With these four desires staunchly in his mind he trekked back home, feeling confident with his success of the morning and ready to face his challenges.

* * *

Draco walked up the path to his childhood home, hands sunk deep into his coat pockets and his mind filled with determination. He was intent on nothing distracting him from his revelations of the morning and he felt prepared to face his father. The bitter cold on his unshielded face did not deter him, nor the scattering of peacock waste that dotted the otherwise clear walkway. He felt sure nothing could pull him from his mindset, until he came just into sight of the Manor whose doors' opened abruptly as a shabbily dressed figure was launched out violently into the cold. The projected man landed a few meters in front of him with a nasty crunch. The man moaned in pain as he tried to roll to his feet.

Startled, but by no means as much as the pile of second hand rags that lay in front of him, Draco stepped to the side and watched curiously. A master safely out of harm's way, the Malfoy Dispelling Charm quickly picked up where it left off, pulling the offender up in the air and launching him further off the grounds. Draco watched the man soar out of sight before he continued his way calmly towards his house.

He stopped just outside the doors as he came across a discarded object. Picking it up he realized it was a wallet, probably owned by the man just cast out of his home. Some Muggle notes and a few Sickles sat inside the billfold, along with some taped up plastic cards and a Muggle drivers license all owned by the same man: a Buford Wilkinson.

Though he had never met the man he did know of him. He was an impoverished Mudblood looking for someone to invest in a project of his. His father always rejected him without hearing a word, for not only was he a Mudblood but he had apparently married a Muggle. His mother seemed slightly interested in whatever he had once said, but Lucius' word was law in his house. Draco knew nothing more of the man, except he had to be either incredibly stupid or rather desperate to have come looking to the Malfoys for help. Draco dumped the silver into his own coin purse and pocketed the wallet in his cloak before entering the Manor

"Draco!" a cold and icy voice hissed violently.

"That didn't take long," he muttered, hanging up his coat as his father descended quickly from the stairs.

"Draco Malfoy, what the hell have you done?" Lucius demanded, his usually cold gray eyes filled with fury.

"Happy Christmas to you too, Father," Draco replied passively, easing his way into the living room. He caught a flash of his mother's worried face before he felt a strong grip on his shoulder, spinning him around to face his accuser.

"Don't you dare spout that cheek with me! What have you done to Miss Parkinson?" Lucius inquired, sticking his sleek walking stick in his son's face.

"Nothing that wasn't due," Draco replied, knocking the cane away. "I told her I would never marry her and I meant it. I won't be sold off against my will."

"Do you have any idea of what kind of damage you have just done? You put your family's jeopardy at stake for your own selfish whims!" Lucius exclaimed.

"No, Father, that was you," Draco corrected harshly. "I was merely salvaging what little bit of a life I have left. I may not have much but I sure as hell am going to fight for what control I have."

"Is this about that Greengrass whore you've been fucking?" his father inquired, an infuriating sneer crossing his face.

"You leave her out of this!" Draco hissed, clenching his teeth and standing his ground. "I'm not out to marry anyone so just remove yourself from my personal life!"

"It is my duty as your father and head of this family to make sure we are represented honorably, and it is very much my concern if you sever relations with a family who could save us all because you'd prefer to spend your time between some abomination's legs!" his father stated sternly. Draco's eyes widen in rage, and his jaw clenched severely. Lucius began to laugh inexplicably at his son's reaction, fueling Draco's hatred.

"Come now, my son. Do not think me so cruel as to totally disregard your desires. I know you do not wish to marry Pansy. I do not particularly want her to be the mother of my grandchildren. I love your mother, I have for decades, and I wish nothing less than for you to find your perfect companion in life, for you to love and cherish the way I do my Narcissa," he expressed calmly, stroking Draco's irritated face affectionately. Draco swallowed hard, his anger slightly abated at his father's statements.

Seeing the rage die out of his son's eyes, Lucius smiled, his hand moving from the pointed cheek down to his son's slim shoulders gently. Then, to initiate shock, he tightened his grip, roughly shaking his son so a wince of surprise crossed his disobedient face.

"But if you think for one moment I will let you throw this family's life away over your own petty wants you have seriously underestimated me! Greengrass girl or not you will never disobey me again! You're lucky I plan on completing my financial arrangements with Miller tonight, which if successful will make your rash foolishness with Pansy irrelevant. But you will fall in line and start to care about the future of this family!" Lucius ordered.

"I am the future of this family!" Draco retorted. "I think of nothing but that responsibility and want nothing more than to help us back on our feet. But I am not some toy solider for you to shape and order around. I need to have my own life and the freedom to think and do something of my own, something I can be proud of!"

"You are going no where!" his father cried, and Draco caught a look of fear crossing his eyes at the prospect. "I have had enough of this conversation! There will be no more of your insolence and fantasies. Now collect yourself and behave. Miller will be here at seven and dinner needs to be perfect."

Lucius turned without another word and hurried up the stairs. Draco's mother quickly spilled out of her study, starting at her beloved son intently. Draco titled his head, and much to her surprise, he smiled. He walked to her, wrapped his arms around her in a hug, kissing her warm cheek in a happy affection.

Draco then took his turn to leave without a word, leaving his mother in an absolute inquisitive shock. The conversation with his father, far from infuriating and ruffling his new state of mind, had revealed something useful to him. He had discovered his father's weakness, his own upperhand in the civil war that was quietly being raged in the Malfoy Manor:

Draco was needed by his father much more desperately than he needed Lucius.

With that marvelous thought in mind Draco marched out determinedly into the grounds, ready for the first drops of blood to be spilled on the battlefield for his freedom.


	15. Two Stones with One Bird

Two Stones With One Bird

Draco sat quiet and pleasant as the main course of their Christmas Eve dinner appeared on the table. Father and son both interacted in front of their guest as if nothing was wrong. Miller was his usual boisterous self. It was clear to Draco that Rhett's dislike of his father was still strong, and that his acceptation to the holiday invitation was due only to the fact that his own family was almost 5,000 miles away. He kept his conversation with the Malfoy head to a minimum, though he lay no small amount of charm on his wife and was more than happy to engage his son in excited conversation.

Yes, Lucius Malfoy seemed all too relieved for the main course to appear on his battered ancient table, delicately draped with pricey linens. He cut quickly into his roasted meat, popping the savory morsel into his mouth until he moaned with pleasure.

"This is exquisite, Narcissa! Why have you never ordered such a delicious bird before?" he exclaimed. "What is it, pheasant?"

"I'm...er...unsure," she replied to her husband in her best collective state. "I was certain I told the house-elves to roast pig."

"I reckon this is too much meat for a pheasant," Rhett chimed in, cutting into his own piece of bird.

"Well what on earth is it?" Lucius wandered, biting into another sliver of the succulent dish and resting his gaze on his smirking son. He felt a strange jolt in his stomach as Draco picked up his own utensils to carve his meat.

"Peacock," Draco replied simply, his gaze never leaving his father's eyes as he took a full bite.

"Peacock! I love roasted peacock!" Miller expressed, quickly devouring his own meat.

"I know. As soon as I realized you were coming over for Christmas Eve dinner I insisted the elves make your favorite dish," Draco expressed drolly.

"And who says you Limeys don't know how to barbeque!"

Draco burst into manic laughter as he quickly shut the door to his bed chamber behind him. The look of abhorrence on his father's face as he realized he had been raving over the taste of his own peacock was priceless. It was, he admitted, a slightly deranged move on his part, but as the bird was more of an annoying lawn ornament than a pet he felt little guilt. Even his mother had begged her husband to get rid of it as its maintenance was a hit on their budget, and he had killed it quickly and painlessly, though not without satisfaction.

Lucius was forced to finish his plate, sit tall for dessert, and keep his feet as Miller suggested they talk over drinks in his study. Draco received one worried look from his mother before she too excused herself, though he could have sworn he saw a look of pride flash across her eyes before she left.

Ecstatic, Draco was prepared to throw himself on his dusty bed and revel in his victory. His father would of course retaliate, but Draco was unafraid. There was not much more the man could do to him, and Draco had just proven he was ready to play dirty to fight for his cause.

He was prepared to wait for his father's summons when he noticed an irritated looking owl perched outside his window. He let the animal in, and it promptly took off after delivering his package. Normally the post came to the living room to be sorted by the elves earlier in the morning, but the letter had been specifically addressed to his room. Draco wondered how many hours the creature had set perched outside his bedroom before he turned his attention to his mail.

A small but neatly packed parcel lay on his lap, with no return address marked. He pulled gently on the strings and found a neatly written letter placed on top of what looked like black fabric.

_Looking at this has been distracting me from my work. For this I blame you. Come over this morning if you want to make amends, least you be placed in the focus of my wrath. _

_ Bring eggs, the last of mine burnt in the fire._

_ Astoria G._

Draco grinned as the black fabric unrolled in his hands, revealing itself to be that trouble-starting apron that had been the source of this day's mess. The idea of waiting around to be yelled at by his father was no longer as appealing as it had been, and he quickly Summoned his broom and raced towards Diagon Alley.

* * *

Draco stood in the hauntingly abandoned street of Diagon Alley, just outside Astoria's flat. The usually lively shops were all securely closed for the impending holiday. Not a single sign of life was emanated in the shopping area, including Astoria's flat. It seemed her note had been sent early that morning with the intent of him spending the day with her. Had he gotten her message earlier he would have probably been saved a lot of trouble, though he was proud about being proactive for once.

The night air was dark and cruelly cold. Snow fell around him silently, blanketing the footprints of last minute shoppers and hopeful lovers. Draco rolled his broomstick in his grip. He should probably just call it a night. She was obviously still with her family, perhaps she was even staying there. It was Christmas, a day meant to be celebrated with family. He too should have been home. He needed to be there to stand up for his actions, to continue to push his point across.

Yet he couldn't quiet shake the longing he had to see her. He had been thinking about her all day, and she had been a sort of inspiration and motivation for him to launch into action. He wanted to touch her skin, inhale her scent, hear her raspy breaths, more than just for sex but for the strange comfort it gave him.

Sighing, he threw his broomstick back over his shoulder as he turned to leave when finally he saw another figure in the Alley. She walked quietly to her flat, wrapped tightly in her burgundy coat and matching barret, Christmas gifts loaded in her arms. Instant relief washed over him as she grew closer, and he didn't even try to suppress his smile.

"Well you're incredibly late," she laughed as she met up with him. "You do know that morning is when the sun _rises_, right?"

"I just got your message," he replied airily. "I do have other matters to attend to than you."

"But I bet they aren't nearly as fun as me," she retorted, flashing her smirk before heading for the stairs.

"That's a truth," he muttered honestly, before jumping to catch up with her. He stopped her before she started climbing the stairs and took her bulky parcels out of her hands, making his way with them up the steps. She stared at him, impressed, before she sauntered after him and opened up the door.

"I brought you eggs as well. Unfertilized, of course," he added, before he made his way to put them up in the kitchen. Astoria blurted out a laugh, looking at him once again with a puzzled gaze.

"How was your family dinner?" he inquired, propping his broomstick up against the mantel.

"Really, really good, actually," she replied with a sheepish laugh. "Something had Pansy all upset so she and my aunt were up in her room the whole time. Uncle Richard seemed elated though, and he and my parents got shitfaced in celebration. They were hysterical and really social with Daphne and me. I also made off with a good haul of presents this year."

"Sounds wonderful," Draco grinned, glad to know someone enjoyed the results of his break off as much as he did. He was about to make an alluding comment to the experience when his eye was caught by something else. He noticed the protruding hilt of the ceremonial knife he had caught Astoria cutting her self with still sunk deeply into the wall above the fireplace.

"Why is this still here?" he whispered, touching the end gingerly.

"I don't know," she replied offhandedly as she shelved her new books into her library. "I haven't gotten around to taking it down. I actually kind of like it there. It makes me think of you." She accentuated her point by slapping his ass as she passed by.

"Let's get you some other memento of me, shall we?" he suggested, grunting as he pulled the knife out of the wall. "That isn't a moment I am particularly clamoring to be reminded of."

"Suit yourself," she shrugged, taking the knife from him and tossing it in her rubbish bin. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that instrument of destruction gone from his sight as he settled on to the couch. Astoria fumbled about in the kitchen for a moment, allowing Draco time to peer into her greenhouse.

"Are those...Christmas lights and decorations strewn on your potion plants?" he inquired in disbelief.

"Maybe," she replied in defense as she set down a tray on the coffee table.

"And is that hot chocolate and gingerbread?" he asked, staring at the treats.

"And it's not even spiked," she remarked, an excited grin stretching across her face.

"Why Astoria Greengrass, I never pegged you as a holiday enthusiast," Draco remarked, biting into a cookie with a smirk.

"It's Christmas masochism I suppose," she replied. "I'm usually repulsed by the whole "good cheer" concept but...I don't know, this Christmas season hasn't been so terrible."

"Is that a round about way of you saying you're happy?" he asked smoothly, laying out his arm so he could gently stroke her hair.

"I'll never admit to that," she replied, curling up on the far side of the couch as she sipped her coco. "And how was your Christmas Eve dinner?"

"Not nearly as good as yours," he expressed, retreating his hand from her hair so he could rub it through his own. "Some shit went down, things are about to get messy. But I stood up to him today, and I'm making it clear that I won't let him order me around."

"Well that's good. I was getting really tired of all the whine and no action," she stated in a strangely nice way. Draco was quiet for a moment as he reflected over the day's events.

"I killed his peacock and then secretly served it for dinner," he told her quietly. "He didn't know until he had a few bites."

Astoria stared at him, mouth slightly agape. He had expected her to laugh at it, but she seemed taken a back.

"Are you serious?" she inquired, placing her mug down on the table gently.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it had a point and all, that I wouldn't just lie back and take his shit, that I would retaliate and...are you...upset?" he asked uncomfortably, shifting in his seat.

"No," she replied clearly, finally meeting his eyes. "I'm incredibly turned on."

In a quick flash she reached out across the couch, jerking on his tie so his body fell on to hers. Her lips claimed his greedily, her hands sprayed across his face as she tried to bringing him closer.

"Merlin you're fucked up," he groaned as he situated himself on top of her, grinding into her as he found her hips.

"That's rich coming from a bird killer," she gasped, pushing him up so she could straddle his lap. He moaned as she rocked into him, kissing his lips and neck sporadically as she started to tug off their clothes. Once their tops were disbanded to the floor she began to focus more intently on the sensitive areas of his neck as his hands found her breasts. He grinned as he kneaded them happily, shaking his head at his earlier comparison.

That's when he stopped cold. In the rush of the day he had never paused to shower. Pansy's scent and sweat from the morning still clung to his body as Astoria left her own mark. Though she still attacked his body without censor, he felt a slimy guilt encompass him and his heart beat rapidly.

He had to do something, he determined. He tried to suppress a moan as Astoria's hands began to slide down over his thighs, and he shivered at how good everything she did felt. He thought about their short but intense past, about how much he thought about her, about how it was her presence in his life that was getting him to finally fight for the things he wanted. He recalled the mind blowing fright he had felt when he thought she was killing herself, how infuriating and addictive her attitude was, and how nothing ever felt as good than when she cupped his face and stroked his hair a way from his eyes. He wanted her scent, her mouth, her advice, her smirks, her tears, her anger, her shoes, her complications, her life.

And today had certainly been a day about him getting what he wanted.

"Astoria," he said suddenly, stopping her hand's descent.

"We've past the point in time when I am interested in your conversation," she replied irritatedly, wiggling her hand out of his grasp.

"Do you like the theater?" he asked. Astoria stared at him, her face contorted into an are-you-seriously-asking-me-this-when-I-was-about-to-pull-out-your-cock kind of way. When his inflection remained adamant she scowled and sat back on his lap, staring up at the ceiling as she contemplated his question.

"Not really," she admitted. "I've only ever gone once. It was some horribly cheerful musical my mother took us to. Everyone there was more pretentious and falsely esoteric than usual it made me want to go on a stomping spree. Plus my Mum tried to get me to wear a petticoat, in _August_."

"I don't really like it either," he said. "I have two tickets for Friday."

Astoria stared down at him in shock.

"Are you asking me to go with you?" she asked in bewilderment.

"Yes. I know its a bore but I have to go. I figured there would be at least some chance of fun if you were to come with me. And even if that's impossible there is no one else I'd rather be miserable with than you."

"How romantic," she sneered, pushing him lightly.

"You want romance?" he asked softly, brushing her cheek slightly with his fingers. "I could do that."

"No!" she cried desperately. "It's not that! It's just...you and I have never done anything like this before. We don't go places..."

"Astoria, a few weeks ago a dragged you into a back alley and fucked you over a rubbish bin, and you're scandalized that I want to take you to dinner and a play?" he asked in amusement.

"Dinner too?" she repeated in a fluster.

"What's the matter? You ashamed to be seen with me?" he inquired in half jest, though he held all of his breath as he waited for her to answer.

"Please," she stated, all nerves disappearing as her usual attitude reappeared. "You are no where near as interesting as you think you are."

"Then what's the problem? It could be fun, and I bet you look stunning under those soft lights," he conjectured, placing soft kisses up her neck. Astoria let out a pleasantly exasperated laugh.

"Now you're just trying to flatter me," she said darkly, sliding her hands down his chest as his lips made their way to her ear.

"Is that a yes, then?" his whispered, nipping lightly at her lope. Astoria rolled her head, and he imagined her eyes as well, before she replied.

"Only if I can wear something absolutely scandalous to the affair," she conditioned, cupping his face and running her fingers through his hair. A jolt shot through his system at her response and his hands quickly returned to her hips.

"Sweet Merlin I lust you!" he proclaimed, climbing to his knees she she spilled softly onto her couch. Her rolling laugh turned into a surprised gasp as he thrust into her, and they spent the night creating new memories to fill their minds during boring conversations.

"Hey Draco?" Astoria called out hours later as she rested up against his chest.

"Yes, Azzy?" he muttered lazily, twirling his fingers in her hair as the first weak rays from the winter sun entered the flat.

"Happy Christmas," she completed.

"Happy Christmas," he replied with a grin.


	16. For Nobody Else Gave Me a Thrill

For Nobody Else Gave Me a Thrill

Astoria was unsure if she was more amused or irritated at the situation. It was a fairly balanced mix of the two for sure, perhaps even a perfect blend. But Astoria had spent her life fueled by a dull annoyance, and she seemed to feel her entertainment more acutely. Plus, she argued diplomatically, she had a long night ahead of her, one which had the capacity of actually be somewhat pleasant. So, for the time being, she decided to take a personal path less traveled and resigned to simply shake her head in a begrudged humor as Draco continued to argue.

"I thought you said you'd be off by six thirty," he pressed for the umpteenth time in the past thirty minutes.

"I said I might get off at six thirty. It's not my fault Neil called in sick," she responded for the equally umpteenth time. Draco merely responded with a scowl as he sat with his arms folded in a swivel chair behind the reference desk, slowly turning side to side in a sign of irritation much like the flickering of a house cat's tail. Astoria caught Cheri's eye silently and they both broke out into matching silly smiles.

Tonight was the night of their theater outing, and it had gotten off to a rocky start. The invitation being of last notice Astoria still had to work her shift at the Library. The show didn't start till nine so they planned on meeting at her work place, where she estimated she'd be off and ready by half past six. It was now nearly seven, and due to the absence of their oh-so-reputable assistant manager, Cheri and Astoria were behind in their work. Draco had arrived and instantly argued that she leave as planned so they could be off. Astoria had rebutted that she wasn't going to leave the work all to Cheri, leading to a round of arguments between the Slytherins.

Astoria, unsurprisingly to her, had won.

Draco had therefore spent the last twenty minutes sulking behind the desk, causing Astoria to dedicate a small but prevalent percentage of her energy playing moderator as she and Cheri tried to keep from laughing. And though she tried her best to keep her mind focused on finishing her work quickly, she couldn't keep her eyes from flickering back over to his chair. Despite his present accessory of a face intent on showing his discontent, Astoria couldn't help but admit that the boy sure did know how to dress. He wore expensive dress robes of various shades of black, tailored to fit his slim but well-defined body perfectly. As he rose from his seat and started pacing impatiently, Astoria's gaze fell, and she found herself blessing whoever made his slacks as they accentuated in all the right places.

Of course the charm of the well worn suit did waver every time he opened his mouth to complain, but even then she found him rather handsome, temper-tantrum or not.

"Your complaints aren't making me work any faster, nor are they putting anyone into a cheerful mood," Astoria warned, waving her wand across an unsorted pile of books.

"I just thought we'd be gone by now," he snapped impatiently. "I don't want us to lose our reservation."

"Well, then why don't you make yourself useful and sort these books on to the reserve shelf?" she suggested, dumping a pile of books into his hands.

"What am I, some kind of house elf?" he sneered fitfully. Astoria, instead of yelling back, simply grinned.

"You know, you're kind of sexy when you're all hot and bothered," Astoria stated slyly, running a long finger down his chest. Draco's eyes widened and then rolled, a sarcastic sigh escaping his lips as his countenance was freed of his anger.

"You are the most exasperating creature I've ever met," he replied lightly. "And sometimes I want nothing more than to wring your neck."

"Kinky," she responded, earning a smile from him. "Maybe I'll have to exasperate you a bit more later tonight." They both grinned wickedly as she tilted her head up to kiss him, the short but hot contact causing her body to grow warm and alert.

"Astoria?" an astonished voice called out, extinguishing all of Astoria's forming plans of pushing him into the back room for more. The two broke apart to stare at the newcomer.

"You!" Draco growled fiercely, his body instantly tensing up and his hands clutching Astoria's arms.

"Malfoy?" Hermione inquired in the same astonished tone.

"You know her?"."You know him?". Astoria was bombarded with a chorus of shocked interrogative demands.

"Yeah," she responded to them both, her eyes narrowing in confusion. "Hermione comes here almost everyday for her research, and Draco is...Oh!"

The obvious reason for the sudden outburst of aggression between her company finally jumped into her mind. Draco's face had twisted into the most obscene scowl she had have seen him create, while Hermione stared at him with equal disdain.

Astoria couldn't help but laugh.

"Well this is funny," she proclaimed, taking a step out of the line of fire. Draco's head immediately snapped towards her.

"Funny! What the hell are you doing talking to her..."

"I will talk to whoever I damn well please," she interjected steadily. "Hermione happens to be one of the few interesting people I get to see in this place, and I do not respond kindly to people judging the company I choose to keep."

Fuming, Draco failed to notice the quick but unmistakable glance Astoria shot Hermione, indicating that this proclamation went both ways.

"Now, I know we are about to leave, but Hermione needs that book I ordered for her in the back. You can either play nice while I go back to get it, or you can wait in the office. Either way rudeness won't be tolerated here," Astoria declared, unmoved by Draco's enraged gaze. The two stared into each others eyes before Draco finally broke away in begrudging relent.

"Erm, you look really nice tonight, Draco," Hermione complimented unsurely, her smile fighting to stay on her face. Draco cast his grey gaze over to her. His mouth opened as if to speak, but he seemed to struggle with his words. After a brief moment of fumbling he let out a grunted gasp and made his way to the back room.

Astoria released a knowing smile, and shook her head in humor.

"That boy," she said affectionately, turning her attention to the bemused brunette.

"Are you dating Draco Malfoy?" Hermione asked incredulously, her eyes wide.

"Dating is such a strong word," Astoria responded with a small scowl. "We're whatever you call two people who've been shagging regularly the past two months whom are going out to eat for the first time are, which for my own prosperity I hope doesn't regulate a label."

"But...Malfoy?" Hermione pressed further, her eyes filled with worry,

"Trust me, he isn't all that bad. I mean, I certainly see where you'd despise him, and I'm sorry for this little awkward meeting, I just don't really think about 'who hates whom and why' and those sorts of things," she explained. "But as for me, well, I've come to find Draco is a lot like a dog. Stupid and obnoxious at times, but with a firm demeanor and a punch on the snout he can prove to be a rather useful and a somewhat reliable companion."

"I heard that!" Draco exclaimed angrily from the back.

"That's because I wasn't being quiet!" she yelled in retaliation, sending a wink Hermione's way. Hermione smiled, becoming much more relaxed as Astoria remained unphased.

"So is he the rat faced bastard in need of mutilation?" she inquired, her tone back to its usual calm.

"Ah yes," Astoria mused, remembering their previous conversation. "I've decided to let him stay whole for now. Not much a point in him if he isn't nice to look at."

"Here's your bloody book," Draco announced, coming out of the back room with a large volume adorned with note inscribed 'Granger'. Draco laid it on the counter in front of her, not bothering to spare Hermione a look as he rounded to Astoria.

"Can we go now? Please?" he urged, his lips pressed firmly.

"Oh, alright. I'm sure Cheri can finish closing up," she conceded, sensing Draco was being stretched thin. She bid a quick farewell to Hermione before she lead Draco back to the store room, where she told him she was going to change and get ready for the night.

"Try not to take forever," he snapped through the closed lavatory door. "Now we're really pushing our reservation."

"We won't be late, trust me," she assured.

"I'm still angry over this whole interaction," he informed. "Of all the people you want to be friends with, why on earth would you choose that Mud..."

"I would think very carefully before you finish that sentence," she warned sternly through the door. "There are very few people in this world who merit my respect, and you and her happen to make up the majority of that group. Either deal with having that in common or risk loosing it."

As Draco struggled for his next words Astoria opened the door, fully dressed with pressed hair and completed evening makeup. Draco stared in amazement. Her black hair was curled and half up, the rest of her locks spiraling pleasantly down to her bare shoulders. She wore a pearl white sheen dress with thin straps and a neckline that cut far down to her diaphragm, which looked shockingly elegant on her figure despite her chest being scandalously bare. The hemline fell just above the straps of her razor heels, though a hidden slit allowed for a flash of one of her shapely legs as she walked. Her smoky eye makeup caused her already intense green irises to pop, and the color of her dress made her skin appear to glow.

"Are we clear?" she inquired softly, shrugging a shoulder up into her luscious hair.

"Absolutely," he replied, not hearing a word she said. "You look...that dress...how did you get ready so quickly?"

"I made myself up before work and cast a Replica Charm for later," she explained with a smile. "I told you we wouldn't be late."

"That you did," he said slowly, the grin on his face growing the longer he stared at her. "You know, made up like that, you look particularly unhideous."

"Thanks. You don't look like a troll either."

* * *

The snow flurries, as if on queue, began descending the moment the sun set on the London skyline, waiting until there was no possibility of natural warmth to soothe the outdoor travelers as they steadily fell. Astoria wrapped her cloak around herself tighter, trying her best to keep her feet in her stylish but impractical heels as her thin body began to shiver. She kept her complaints to herself, though inwardly she cursed her mother. It seemed more of Phoebe's hogwash had latched into her daughter's brain than she expected, as Astoria had chosen to wear her thinnest cloak since it matched her gown, despite reports that it was to be one of the coldest nights of the year.

"You doing all right there, Greengrass?" Draco inquired smugly, in a voice that indicated he was far warmer than she cared to hear.

"Splendid," she spat, counting the blocks between their Apperation checkpoint and the restaurant. While not terribly far, the number she estimated caused her to scowl.

"Why didn't you grab a better cloak? Or at least a scarf?" he asked offhandedly, the sly grin remaining on his face.

"Will you just leave me alone! I'm fine!" she protested, gritting her teeth as she held back her vain reasoning.

"Let me guess, no other cloak went with your dress, and you didn't want to risk smearing your makeup with a scarf?" he ventured, stopping his progression down the icy pavement. Astoria spun to face him, wanting both to tell him how wrong he was and to desperately urge him along before she froze to death. Before she could decide which was more pressing, her pride or her immediate health, Draco unraveled the silver scarf draped across his robes and fastened it securely around her neck.

"I have a mother too, you know," he explained knowingly. "But I can assure you that I'd much rather you run off to the lavatory to freshen up when we get to the restaurant than to have to whisk you to St. Mungos for hypothermia."

He accentuated his meaning behind the statement by drawing her close to him, wrapping his arm around her poorly covered shoulders as they continued to their destination. Astoria felt the desire to retaliate, but was impeded as his body heat transferred over and an icy gust of wind failed to slice into her face as the scarf protected her.

"Look, it even acts as a bitch muzzle," he mused, running his fingers over the folds of his scarf. Astoria shot him an unimpressed look, though she relented to allow her vocals to be sacrificed for welcomed warmth as they finally approached the restaurant.

It was an acclaimed establishment hidden in one of the chicest parts of London. Muggles in their own fine attire passed by it as they reached their upscale night clubs and eateries. It was an established place Astoria had never been to before but often heard about. Her dorm-mates had gushed over hearing that someone's sister had been taken there by some rich toff trying to be impressive. She harbored no snobbish feelings however as Draco rushed her through the door, removing his arm and scarf from around her neck as they entered the lobby. It was elegantly decorated, filled with charmed fountains, enchanted windows that made it seem as if you were dinning by a summer sea, and glorious scents coming from every direction. Had her mother stumbled across the knowledge that her daughter was being taken there on a date, she may very well have keeled over in an enraptured heart-attack.

"Wow," Astoria all but whistled, taking in the sight. "This is...wow."

Draco smiled at her with due cockiness, which she granted seeing as she was rather impressed. She couldn't help but smile in excitement as she felt exclusive, special, and elevated as they waited to be seated by the maître d'. This feeling of elation being the main reason one spent a small fortune to eat at a place like this, Astoria expected Draco to be all smugness and righteous. Instead, she watched his face set itself into an expression masked over a look of worry, and she caught him taking a deep, hopeful breath as he began conversing with the hostess.

"I have reservations," he explained in a strangely horse voice. "Under 'Black'."

Astoria glanced at him quizzically, puzzled at the use of his mother's maiden name while securing a table. He caught her eye and gave her an intense and serious look, immediately causing her to swallow her inquiry.

Either the hostess had grown cautious by the suspicious exchange of glances, or she was privy to something Astoria was not. By any means, she quickly asked them to wait where they were and left them with a stale smile.

"Forget it," Draco said under his breath quickly, grabbing her hand as if to pull her away. "Let's just go somewhere else."

"What? Why?" she inquired, totally oblivious to the reason behind the sudden change of atmosphere.

"Ah, Mister...Black," a polished voice called out, halting Draco from responding. The maître d' flicked his eyes across Draco for a moment, and she felt the hand that she was holding instantly go ridged.

"I'm afraid your request for a table has been declined," he said firmly, the professional smile never leaving his face as the couples standing behind them noticed the beginnings of a scene.

"Why?" Astoria demanded impulsively, ignoring the tighten grip clutching her hand.

"Astoria, don't," Draco muttered.

"Because we have a very strict and inflexible policy," the maître d' explained willingly, "about not serving people like him."

"People like him?" she repeated astonished, more to herself than in egging on the glorified waiter.

"Death Eaters!" he bellowed, in a voice that purposefully carried to the packed dinning room. The patrons closest to the lobby all quit their conversation as the term hit their ears. Astoria stood stunned as her hand fell out of Draco's released hold.

"You see, my dear, we'd rather lose whatever money these _criminals_ manage to hide from the Ministry than to appear to be sympathetic with their kind."

"Excuse me!"Astoria roared, her anger dissolving whatever residual cold she felt. "What the hell kind of place is this? How dare you talk to him like that!"

"My dear," the maître d' exclaimed condescendingly. "Do you have any idea who he is? Who his father is?"

"Do you have any idea who _my_ father is?" she demanded furiously. The waiter stared at her blankly, though a twitch of apprehension flickered across his face.

"Helios Greengrass, you may have heard of him? Head of Greengrass Trading? The little company that oversees nearly all shipping in and out of Great Britain, probably including the way your little establishment smuggles in crates of potion injected, mash fed beef which you have the audacity to charge out the asre for a 7 oz steak!" she yelled, holding steady as she played the Greengrass family card for the first time in her life.

"Why, Miss Greengrass," the maître d' stuttered. "I didn't realize. But of course you and Mr. Malfoy are more than welcome..."

"Fuck off," she spat, turning on her heel ready to storm out with Draco. Only, when she turned to face the exit, she realized Draco wasn't there. She left quickly, not letting her apprehension hit her until she was well out on to the street.

She found him pacing about half a block down, hands dug deeply into his cloak pockets. She approached him lightly, unsure of how exactly to handle this situation.

"Draco?" she called out softly.

"Why the fuck did you have to go and do all that?" he demanded, getting into her face the instant he saw her. Any sympathy she felt for him disappeared as she went on defense against her attack.

"What the hell was I supposed to do?" she yelled back.

"You should have just fucking left when I told you!" he shouted.

"How was I supposed to know all that was going to happen?" she asked incredulously.

"Because that is what always fucking happens with me!" he screamed, throwing his fists into the air. "Every time I try to go anywhere I get tossed out for being a fucking Death Eater. I tried to back away but you, you just had to fucking shout at the man!"

"_Excuse_ me, but I was just trying to defend you!" she cried, her jaw clenching in anger. "Though for the life of me I can't figure out why I even bothered!"

"Oh, that's right," he sneered viciously, his grey eyes hollow. "Toss me to the side like that! Why don't you go back inside and gossip about how pathetic I am? They seemed more than happy to have _you_ there! Why don't you go form a mob to come bash my fucking skull in while you regale them with how wonderful and powerful your fucking sham of a family is! Isn't that what you want?"

"No," she breathed with a gasped voice, stunned and horrified at his accusation instead of being further angered like she would have expected. "No, not at all."

Draco's furrowed face began to soften, and he stared at her in disbelief as he realized what he had just said.

"FUCK!" he proclaimed into the night, turning on the spot as he grasped at his face. He took a few steps away from her, cursing mindlessly as he kept his back turned. A few seconds passed that way, Astoria staring at his back in shock as the white snow flakes drizzled around them.

"You shouldn't have had to see that," he murmured softly, his gaze slowly and finally reaching hers.

"Which part?" she asked snottily, some of her signature attitude returning as her strange emotional shock subsided.

"All of it, okay?" he snapped, his grey eyes narrowing. "All I wanted was for us to have a nice fucking night and for you to enjoy yourself for once. I _never_ wanted you to see anything like that or be rejected because of me, and I was just hoping for one bloody second I would be able to enjoy life with someone worth going through all the bullshit for."

Astoria let out an inaudible breath at his comment, her lips parting as a realization hit her slowly freezing brain. He had wanted to impress her. He had taken a risk and hoped the maiden name would stick so he could take her to the nicest restaurant in town, all for...what? To get under her skirt? Hardly necessary, in fact this outing was only delaying that activity. To showcase his wealth? She probably knew better than any non-Malfoy how dire their straits were becoming. No, it had to be for another reason, a reason which both touched and terrified her as she merely examined its surface.

He wanted to do something nice for her simply to be nice to her, to endear himself closer, and he had failed miserably due to choices he made four years and a lifetime ago. Most of Astoria's anger softened at this simply epiphany and the rest she willingly pushed aside, knowing all too well some outbursts masked true, nobler feelings, and therefore should be forgiven.

"You know, I didn't really want to eat there anyway," she admitted offhandedly, shrugging nonchalantly.

"Yeah right," he muttered to the pile of snow forming around his feet.

"Seriously," she replied, brightness entering into her voice. "I wasn't joking about the shitty overpriced beef, and that is one of those places losers like to take girls to publicly propose so they can't say no. I mean, could you imagine a more disgusting buzz kill to a perfectly nice evening?"

Draco exhaled humorlessly at her subtle attempt at a joke, and continued casting his gaze to the side unwaveringly.

"Besides," she admitted softly, stepping in front of him boldly so he had no choice but to look at her. "I was being serious earlier when I said I don't respond well to people judging the company I choose to keep."

Draco's eyes finally fell upon her face, and though the night was dark she could have sworn she saw his grey eyes flash blue with hope.

"Still," he continued softly, struggling against his defeated point. "Maybe I should just take you home."

"Draco, I'm in heels that place me in constant danger of slipping in this bloody slush, a dress that though makes me look absolutely amazing is slowly causing me to freeze to death, I've already told off a friend and a whole restaurant full of people for questioning my judgment about going out with you, and my favorite wireless show is already halfway over and I hate tuning in to the middle of it. I'm committed to this disastrous date we agreed to have, now lets not let other people ruin it. We're perfectly capable of doing that on our own," she assured matter-of-factly.

A small smile formed across Draco's face as a laugh escaped his lips. He once again took off his scarf and wrapped it around her neck, using the ends as leverage to draw her to him like she had with his tie the first time they had been together. Astoria smiled without restraint as she buried her head into his chest as his arms encased her warmly.

"You're right," he admitted, brushing the flakes of snow lightly out of her hair.

"Of course I'm right, I'm always right," she responded with a grin, pulling back slightly so she could look him in the face. "Now, lets go find us another place to eat. I'm hungry and I tend to get bitchy when I haven't eaten."

"You mean you get bitchier?" he inquired in playful astonishment. Astoria merely nodded in affirmation.

"Unfortunately I don't know if we'll have much luck anywhere else. This was my best hope," he explained stoically, the joy extinguishing itself from his voice with every word.

"What about that place?" she suggested, pointing to an elegant building across the street. "It looks nice."

"What? No! Are you serious?" he demanded fretfully. "That's a muggle restaurant!"

"You have any better ideas?" she asked with an arching eyebrow. "Nobody there is going to know who or what we are, and we have to eat somewhere."

"But it's filled with..._muggles!"_ he exclaimed. Astoria stared at him in a firm thank-you-Captain-Obvious sort of way before responding.

"Look, you kind of brought this upon yourself. Now, I need to eat, so lets just go inside, eat a quick meal and be off with it."

"But I don't even have any muggle mon..." Draco cut himself off suddenly, and his hand dove into his cloak pocket. He pulled out a battered old billfold, which inside held dozens of crumpled high number marked muggle notes.

"Dammit," he muttered, shifting the wallet into his back pocket. "Looks like dinner is on Mr. Buford Wilkinson then."

* * *

As Astoria finished off her lobster bisque and watched Draco devour the remains of his sirloin, she had to admit that dinner had gone far better then she bet either of them could have hoped. Instead of placing him in a sour mood, the exposure to the muggles caused Draco's spirits to raise exponentially. Astoria stood aside gracefully as Draco not only got them in without a reservation, but scored them the best table in the house as the conservative old muggle couple occupying it suddenly decided they wanted to become vegans and left. As further consultation for their previous setbacks, the maître d' waited on them personally, and presented to the couple the restaurant's oldest and most expensive bottle of wine, on the house.

Manipulation and superiority being two of Draco's favorite things, he instantly became a much more agreeable companion. They conversed through wine and bread about their lives. Draco had yet to receive any consequences from the Peacock Incident as Miller had taken his parents to his hunting lodge for the week. Astoria told him about work, made fun of her mother, and touched a bit on the issues she was having with her latest potion. When dinner arrived they spent their time observing the muggles, laughing at their backwards ways and the absurd contraptions they invented to overcome their lack of magic. Astoria pointed out a table next to them where a man's pocket started singing and he pulled out a small plastic brick ("_It's called a Sell Fone. Can you believe it? Muggles actually have to __pay__ money to talk to one another! Have you ever heard of anything so absurd?)._

They continued to mock the necessity of electricity, busboys, and the fact that the band needed a musician for every instrument, when suddenly the ensemble broke out their horns and began a familiar tune.

"This is a Frank Sinatra song!" she exclaimed excitedly, not thinking to hold back. Draco stared at her with a dirty confusion.

"Is that like some kind of inherent muggle knowledge?" he inquired bristfully.

"No, I learned about him Sixth Year in Muggle Studies," she spat back.

"You kept taking Muggle Studies when they put Hogwarts back together?" he asked, his eyes flickering up and down her frame in reevaluation.

"I _had_ to take Muggle Studies," she informed sternly. "All Slytherins did. New reform to 'broaden our outlooks' or some rubbish." She paused as she drank the last of her wine, waiting for Draco's offended gaze to evaporate as he realized the requirement was partially because of him.

"But, for as dreadful as the class was, I did enjoy parts of it. In five millenniums of establishing culture they were bound to do a few things well, and Frank Sinatra happens to be one of them," she continued in defense. Draco rolled his eyes and drained the remainder of his glass before quickly standing up and holding his hand out to her.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, caught off guard by the gesture.

"What the hell else would I be doing? I'm getting you to dance," he replied. "Come school me in the endearing ways of your people."

Astoria's face scrunched up as she prepared to argue, when she noticed the smirk of jest that dominated his countenance. _Of course_ the only way Draco Malfoy would ask her to dance was in a snide challenge, especially in a muggle establishment. Of course, on further reflection of herself, such a challenge was probably the only way she would accept.

Besides, she thought to herself as she gave him her hand coupled with the dirtiest of looks she could muster, she really did love this song.

Classified under a genera known as 'jazz', the others on the dance floor moved about accordingly in fancy twirls and other such moves. Draco, however, lead them across the floor much more casually, moving them in a lazy grace with very little show. Astoria found she much preferred his method of dance, it was much more intimate, more private. Draco's smug grin was charmingly infuriating, showcasing that he seemed to know exactly how much she was enjoying herself, which was extremely irritating as it was true.

Though she would deny it to her death, something felt so right about being in his arms like that, with his hand on her hip in a casual possession. She was enamored with being so close to him she could take in his scent and warmth. Her stomach fluttered as his eyes refused to stop staring at her, and his grin remained secure on his face as though enjoying the sight of her didn't stale with time. A wonderful blend of pride, vulnerability and endearment encompassed her, and a small part of her never wanted the song to end.

That thought, however, quickly set alarms of warning off in her head. Alerts reminding her not to get too close, not to fall, to stay aloof, all swarmed in her head instinctively. However, she was soon removed from this train of thought as the chorus approached and Draco finally launched her into a twirl. Grinning to suppress as laugh as she returned to his arms and their lazy dancing, Astoria resigned herself to quit thinking for once and enjoy the music.

_Some others I've seen,  
might never be mean__  
Might never be cross, or try to be boss  
But they wouldn't do._

_ For nobody else, gave me a thrill  
Will all of your faults, I love you still.  
It had to be you, wonderful you  
It had to be you._

_

* * *

_

The lobby room just outside London's Magick Theater was full of people all dressed in their best (which Astoria and Draco both sneeringly agreed often wasn't good enough). Thankfully the establishment, which dated back nearly seven hundred years, had seen its fair share of criminals, all of whom the theater willingly sheltered as they often had the money to purchase season tickets. Plus, if nothing else, gossip and scandal were good fuel for attendance during a drag play, so the couple was allowed entrance without incident.

Astoria took his arm gracefully, rolling her eyes at the custom but practicing it none the less. The couple received a few glances, some cursory, while others held more meaning behind their stares. Others still, men for the most part but it would be a lie to ignore the looming gazes of some haughty women, seemed to be staring not at him, but at Astoria. Her elegant and acceptably scandalous dress, bright skin, and regally indifferent manner drew in male attention the same instinctual way it had at school. While Astoria paid no mind to such notice, Draco watched the crowd actively. He swelled with pride as arguably the most beautiful and definitely the most intriguing girl in a sea of fancy garb was elegantly wrapped around his arm, and though he made no allusion to belittling Astoria down to a trophy (he may be prideful but he wasn't _stupid),_ he received a thrill he hadn't felt in ages as he cast warning gazes to the men who stared at her for a bit too long, and loved the jealous looks he received in return.

"I could use a drink," Astoria stated as she found a spot in the crowded room that suited her.

"Of course," he replied diligently. Before he left he placed a soft kiss on her cheek, marking her as his in case anyone got any ideas as he left her for the bar. Astoria cocked her eyebrow at the gesture and shook her head, knowing exactly what he meant by it and mocking the male stupidity of territoriality.

Draco paid no mind to her silent objection, having preyed on far too many women with dates to know that a man had to firmly lay his ground before another wormed in to take his place. He felt confident as he made his way back to her, carrying a firewhiskey on the rocks and a vodka tonic, sure that he had created a strong enough display, when he was stopped in his tracks by the scene in front of him. Astoria was leaning back casually against an unused bar, talking to, of all the fucking people, Blaise Zabini, who also held two drinks in his hands.

"Zabini!" Draco stated loudly, quickly making his way over to Astoria. He wrapped his arm fully around her waist, drawing her in closely. "How nice of you to join us."

"Malfoy," Zabini replied in the same domineering voice. "Are the two of you here together? How quaint. Astoria and I were just catching up on old times. We were pretty _close _for a brief while, weren't we?" Zabini flashed a smirk in Draco's direction as he asked her his question.

"Very brief, from what I hear," Draco shot back. Zabini's smirk stumbled at the two began to stare at each other dangerously.

"Will you two knock it off?" Astoria demanded, pulling herself away from Draco's possessive hold. "I am not impressed by this macho contest, nor am I in the least bit amused. You two are friends and should be ashamed of yourselves. Whatever happened to 'bros before hoes'?"

They both stared at her, completely stunned as she took one of the drinks out of Zabini's hand and took the firewhisky out of Draco's.

"I'm going to be over at that table while the two of you finish out your pissing contest," she announced, walking confidently between the two of them as she left them in her dust. The two men continued to stare in silence until she disappeared into the crowd.

"Time hasn't really mellowed her out much, has it?" Zabini asked, taking a gulp out of his fruity drink.

"No it hasn't," Draco agreed, sipping out of his vodka tonic despite hating the concoction. "Of course, it takes a certain kind of man to be able to handle all that."

"And I assume you fancy yourself to be of that certain, unique type?" Zabini scoffed heartily.

"Obviously," Draco replied simply.

"Fair enough," Zabini replied with a hollow laugh. "I'm a patient man. You two can't be too serious. She's a knockout for sure, but she's no Pureblood..."

"We're serious enough," Draco barked in interruption. "And you'll keep your jealous slander to yourself if you know what's good for you."

Zabini kept his smirk, and his dark eyes twinkled maliciously at the threat.

"Suit yourself, Malfoy," he responded with a shrug. "Just always remember: I had her first."

"And I've had her countless times after you," Draco shot back. "And another thing for you to think about when you wank off tonight to the _one_ time you were with her all those years ago: I'm the one who will be fucking her brains out at that very moment."

Draco then took his turn to leave, letting the imagery burn into his friend's mind as he tried not to be bothered by the fact that he couldn't take the small but importantly intimate moment Blaise and Astoria had shared away.

He found her sitting alone at a small table, one firewhiskey already drained as she began working on her second. She smirked as she watched him approach her.

"Are you done measuring your dicks to see whose is bigger, because I could have just saved you the trouble," she stated glibly.

"Charming," Draco replied with a scowl, taking his seat next to her. He placed his drink down and crossed his arms, staring at her intently as she sipped slowly on her firewhiskey.

"Oh, what's wrong now?" she demanded, putting up her drink so as to give him full attention.

"I know you're going to talk to 'whoever you damn well please', but did you have to talk to _him_ when you're here with _me_?" he inquired, his lips pursed thin.

"I didn't talk to _anyone_. He approached me," she explained unapologetically. "Besides, he's your mate, isn't he?"

"Not when it comes to you," he growled lowly, his eyes casting daggers over to where Zabini stood watching the couple coyly. "I hate the fucking way he looks at you."

"And how is any of that my problem?" she inquired, resting her head against her propped hand as though bored. Draco slowly started to fill with rage.

"You sure the fuck know how to make a man feel small," he spat, rising to get up to leave. With startling speed Astoria grabbed his wrist, causing his head to snap back in her direction.

"You shouldn't," she responded suggestively, her free hand rubbing slowly up his leg. A full smirk spread across his face as he understood her implication and returned to his seat, urging her hand forward until it fell into his lap.

"You're awful," he whispered into her ear, before grabbing her face with both hands and kissing her passionately.

Draco normally hated public displays of affection, but at that moment the fact that people were all around them just made him kiss her harder. He wanted people to see the lusty way she kissed him back, the way _she_ always leaned in closer to reinstate a kiss after he broke it. He wanted the ever-present Blaise to see _exactly_ where her hands were. But mostly he wanted to knock the glasses, flowers and candles off the pristine table, slide that beautiful angelic gown she wore up to her amazing hips, and fuck her right then and there. He thought about how beautiful she would look, propped up on that table with that roaring fireplace in the background, her legs wrapped around him as he burrowed into her. Suddenly he felt sure the gown she wore left no room for undergarments, and he moaned into her mouth, the thought furthering his lustful itch.

But he stopped, breaking the kiss with a decisive pull away. This night was about bigger things than shagging her in a public setting as Blaise cried his eyes out in desire. There was a plan that he had been forming since Christmas Eve and his multiple epiphanies, one which, though divated, was still more or less on track.

He smiled as Astoria's green eyes widened in surprise over the severed contact, the intense and needy look still present. Draco stroked her flushed cheek to calm her down, grabbing her hand with his as the other moved to run fingers through her hair.

"Let's take our seats, shall we?" he inquired deeply. Astoria seemed only to be able to nod in agreement, and her legs shook as she rose from her chair.

Draco smirked victoriously over his effect, and slipped his arm around her waist once more to steady her. There would be plenty of time for shagging later that night. Plenty of time in general, he thought inwardly, if he had anything to do with it.

* * *

Astoria had been disappointed to discover that their snogging session, which she had hoped had been cut off for a change of venue, was not to be continued once they took their seats and the lights went out. Though Draco had moved the armrest up to remove the barrier between them, he actually seemed content to watch the play, leaving Astoria nothing to do but follow the storyline. It was a somewhat amusing plot, but as the story wore on Astoria found herself more interested in leaning up against Draco with closed eyes, listening to the soothing background music that lulled her into an unusual serenity.

She was remarkably comfortable leaning up against him, and she let herself mull over the events of the night. They had rowed constantly through out, been kicked out of a restaurant and forced to eat with muggles. She had received scandalous looks all night, nearly froze on more than two occasions and had been hit on by that insufferable Blaise, whom contrary to what she had told Draco she actively hated.

It had been the best night of her life.

She was starting to realize there was no one she liked fighting with more than Draco. He made her feel alive, passionate, and exciting. Having witnessed one of her weakest and most vulnerable moments she felt no qualms in confiding in him if she felt the whim, and he seemed to reciprocate the sentiment. She felt so secure at that moment, feeling warm with his arm around her, listening him laugh along with the play. It was so unlike what she was used to feeling, so different from the anger and bitterness she normally felt. She was actually enjoying herself, actually liked who she was and who she was with. She was happy.

Astoria flinched in terror as she repeated that phrase in her head, and lurched quickly away from Draco's shoulder. He didn't seem to notice, as he and the rest of the theater were actively laughing at some comment on the stage. He simply let his hand fall to her knee as he continued watching, oblivious to the horrified look she had in her eye, unaware of the terrifying thoughts that now zoomed in her head.

She had never needed a cigarette so badly in her life, and she cursed the fact that she had decided to give up the habit. She stood alone on the balcony during intermission, the only soul desperate enough to step outside in the harsh weather. Draco had excused himself to go to the bathroom and Astoria had rushed outside, in dire need to escape the crowds and be alone.

Her mind was a wretched mess of conflicting and heart-wrenching thoughts. Her chest literally began to pang as her logic began sorting out her dilemma, finally reacting to something she had actively ignored for the past weeks, denying the existence of the problem or of it even being capable in the first place.

"What are you doing out here?" Draco's voice called out in concern from right behind her. "You're going to freeze."

Astoria turned her head from his gaze as he wrapped her up in his cloak, setting his arms around her in a gentle hold as he rest his head upon her shoulders. She couldn't let him see her face, for fear of revealing the tears that threatened to fall.

"Have I told you how incredibly beautiful you look tonight?" he inquired with a murmur in her ear.

"No," she gasped out in a whisper. Draco, misconstruing her answer, continued his compliment.

"You have been the most enchanting thing at every place we have gone tonight. I have been the envy of every man we've come across, and I certainly have not been able to keep my eyes or hands off you for more than..."

"Draco, what are you doing?" Astoria interrupted, spinning around to face him.

"What do you mean?" he asked, tilting his head in confusion. "I'm just complimenting you."

"Why?" she pleaded eagerly. "Why the compliments? Why the date? Why the nice restaurant, the dancing, the holding, the threats to other men? Why? What are you doing to me?"

Draco's face relaxed in his own comprehension, making Astoria feel more worked up and urgent than calm.

"You really don't believe in subtlety, do you?" he asked with a laugh. "I was going to save this for later when we got home but I assume this place is as good as any, especially if you're calling for bluntness."

He stepped forward, grabbing one of her hands between the two of his, smiling in a dashing yet bashful way she had never seen in him before. It was inexplicably charming, and she was certain if he hadn't had her hand she would have run from the spot that very moment.

"Astoria, I want you to be my...no, wait," he said, shaking his head so he could reframe his own request. "I want us to be together, officially. I want to be your boyfriend."

"What?" she asked, taking a step back, her worst fears coming true.

"I want us to be a couple," he repeated happily. "I know I'm a pretentious bastard and you're an unstable contemptuous lunatic, but that's what kind of makes us perfect for one another. I'm ready to go out and get the things I want in life, and what I want the most is you. I'm a selfish prick, Astoria Greengrass, and I refuse to share you with anyone else."

He stepped forward to cup her face, his eyes smiling in the read-between-the-lines kind of way they both were constantly guilty of doing, as neither party could ever bring it upon themselves to say what they really felt. That was another reason while they probably would have done well together, one of many, as they both communicated the same way, masking intense and vulnerable feelings in a matter so similar is was always easy to tell what they really meant.

It was also one more thing she knew she would have to cry over later.

"No, we can't," she expressed in cold and shaking voice, stepping out of the affectionate hold he had her in. Draco's face stumbled.

"What do you mean, 'no we can't'?" he asked slowly, his grey eyes growing dark.

"How the fuck can I say it any clearer?" she demanded, leaving her anger unrestrained so as to hold back her tears. "Why are you doing this? You're ruining it! We said it was going to be just unattached sex, nothing more! Why are you doing this now?"

"Because it's what people fucking do!" he roared stepping forward so he towered over her. "People fancy each other, get involved, attached, and want to fucking be together, you insufferable maniac! Fuck, I know you've convinced yourself that you never want to get serious with a man, but just grow the fuck up and get over yourself!"

"Get over myself? That's fucking ironic as hell," she laughed shrilly.

"What are you talking about?" he demanded.

"You're the one who thinks long term, not me. I just react to things, and you're a bigger fool than I thought if you really haven't figured out why I'm rejecting you," she spat, using all of her energy to ignore the heart that just fell into her stomach.

"Answer me!" he yelled, grabbing her shoulders forcefully, all but crushing her limbs in his fierce grasp. Astoria stared at him sternly, but all the misplaced anger and taunt dissolved from her voice as she spoke.

"What's the point, huh?" she inquired with the smallest trace of a sob. "What if we did get together, what if we dated for years, fell in love, wanted to spend the rest of our lives together and believed all the other lies books and music feeds to us? Then what would we do?"

Draco's eyes went wide, and he released his grip on her arms as he stepped back quietly.

"You could never marry me," she whispered truthfully. "I couldn't give you the kind of children you want to have, that's just an unchangeable fact. And you...I know what it's like to be raised as a Pureblood, I know the pressures you've been under your whole life. You almost _died_ for it, almost _killed._ You couldn't give that kind of future up, could you?"

Draco stared at her with a stoic face, though his eyes reflected a horrible and hated understanding as her words hit him.

"No, you couldn't, and I'm not even going to ask you. This has to end now." Draco's continence morphed into a disparaging horror at her proclamation.

"It has to end," she repeated, taking his warm, scent-laden cloak from around her shoulders and handing it out for him to take. "It's...it's already too hard now. I don't think I could bare it if I waited any longer."

Draco said nothing as she held her arm out desperately, and she pleaded that he would just take it quickly. Instead he ripped his gaze away from her face and turned his back on her, staring determinedly at the hauntingly gorgeous twilight and the full winter moon.

Astoria folded the cloak and left it on the table, smelling it one last time as she stepped away forever. There was no one in the lobby as she made her way out, as the play had once again started. All for the better, she didn't need anyone to see her cry.

* * *

It had been three days. The most miserable in her life. He hadn't called after her, didn't run in the middle of the street to stop her, wasn't there waiting at her flat with cheap, half wilted flowers purchased at a late night convenience store. It had been three days without a single word or sign from him, and Astoria was forced to resign the small but strongly lodged hope that he would come for her. She had been foolish to think that he might. What was he going to do, renounce everything he had believed in for the past twenty years for a girl he had been fucking for the past two months? It was absurd, but Astoria admitted that in her weak state she was almost willing to say she didn't care, that he could have for as long as he wanted before he tossed her aside for a true Pureblood, just so she could have a little bit more time with him.

But it was better this way. It was time for her to detox and put all thoughts of Draco Malfoy behind her. And if that process involved things in her apartment randomly blowing up, going off at strangers in the middle of the street, and throwing books that had been placed on the wrong shelf across the room until they hit the wall, than so be it. Astoria accepted this. It was everyone else who seemed to have the problem.

"Astoria!" Cheri shrieked, pointing her wand and stopping an offensive thousand page volume from hitting a studier in the head. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" she hissed, stocking her return cart with angry clangs. "I'm just trying to work."

"Did you have another fight with your mother?" Hermione asked from behind, causing Astoria to curse and swear the brunette was their more than she was. "Or...or was it with Draco?"

"Don't you ever say that name to me again!" Astoria shouted, causing angry looks to be casted her direction. "Draco Malfoy is a...is a..."

There where plenty of things Draco Malfoy was, most of them easily used as insults. But even after everything she couldn't bring herself to curse him. After all, she couldn't hate him for being something she had known him to be all along.

"We're just not together anymore," Astoria finished, turning back to the shelf to hide her sorrow. Cheri and Hermione exchanged worried glances at their crestfallen friend, and both stepped closer to comfort.

"I'm sorry, darling,"Cheri stated. "You want to talk about it?"

"Absolutely not," Astoria shot back.

"I'm sorry too," Hermione said genuinely, placing a concerned hand on her shoulder.

"Why should you be sorry? You hate Draco, and rightly so!" Astoria expressed.

"Well...maybe hate is too strong a word. And for as much as I like you and as awful as I know him to be, the two of you sort of..."

"Made some sense?" Cheri supplied.

"Yeah. And I mean, you both come from Pureblood families, so..."

"Is that how you both think of me?" she demanded, her volume rising to alerting levels once again. "Some mudblood hating Pureblood who is jumping at the chance to push out more Pureblood brats?"

"No!" Cheri cried in shock.

"Of course not!" Hermione replied in equal dismay.

"Good!" Astoria spat. "And I told you I didn't want to talk about it. I'm going home."

She left the two behind her, fuming angrily. She couldn't bare the wretched irony of the conversation she had just had, and she was desperate for something, anything, to pull her away from being associated with Draco.

"Neil!" she snapped, seeing him walking out of the office. He flinched hard, having been frightened of her ever since her mother told him off.

"Astoria, wh-what can I do for you?" he asked timidly.

"Do you still want to go out with me?" she ordered harshly.

"What?" he inquired again, a stupid look crossing his face.

"Do-you-still-want-to-go-out-with-me?" she spelled out roughly. "You know, take me to dinner, the park, a shady motel, anywhere?"

"Well, yeah," he stuttered, finally taking to his feet. "I have this really nice New Years Eve party I'm going to and need a date for..."

"Great. Pick me up at ten. My address is in my file," she announced, before turning on the spot without telling anyone good-bye.

A New Years Eve party, how perfect. She could say goodbye to this horrible year and Draco Malfoy all at once.


	17. Bad Romance

Bad Romance

** (A/N: Song lyrics to _Bad Romance_ by Lady Gaga, and damn her for making this song so obnoxiously catchy and appropriate that I couldn't not use it.)**

_Caught in a bad romance..._

Astoria's brash and impetuous nature had placed her in a lot of complicated and unwanted situations in her life, but never had she regretted a hotheaded impulsive decision more than she did now. She sat with a mixture of self-loathing, irritation and sadness as she watched her handsome but ignorantly pompous date prattle on about a point she had lost interest in countless minutes ago. All she could do to distract herself from her self-punishment was to watch the bubbles rise endlessly from her glass of champagne and ignore the thoughts of how Neil's thick and curly black hair could probably never feel like rich silk between her fingers, and how his watery blue eyes were incapable of shading in to steel when overcome with passion.

In her mind the date had been a failure before they had even left her flat. He had arrived fifteen minutes early, forcing the procrastinating Astoria to answer the door in the middle of doing her makeup. Then, not only did he have the audacity to bring her flowers, but he presented the pastel pink carnations in a fashion of rarity and elation, and seemed to expect for her to swoon upon receiving the ordinary eyesore of a plant. Astoria had accepted them with a halfhearted thanks and dumped them into a counter top vase without water, returning to her bathroom to finish getting ready without comment.

The party was thrown by some rich bigwig who had donated enough money to the Library of the Ministry to merit an art gallery named after him. Astoria, however, knew the family by a different means. It was the only wealthy group her mother refused to be in company with. She didn't know all the details to the story, but apparently last time her mother and the hostess had met up their conversation had ended with Phoebe throwing a glass of red wine in the other woman's face, and the two had to be dragged apart by their respective husbands. This recollection seemed not to be forgotten by the hefty hostess, as her fake smile flickered upon Neil's introduction of his date. Though inevitably making conditions all the more hostile, Astoria couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride and endearment towards her mother for being real enough for once to admit how hideously hollow some people could be.

Her brief stint of positive feeling was quickly eradicated as they merged into the party. The waitstaff was made up of flying cherubs dressed up like Baby New Years, giggling as they served hors d'oeuvres and champagne to the guests.

"What a charming couple!" one of the winged brats proclaimed as its stubby arm held out a tray of drinks.

"We're not a couple," Astoria spat, taking two flutes and holding on to them both.

"Ah, but you know what they say about who you ring in the New Year with!" the second-string cupid pronounced, flying away before she could take it out with its own tray and further cementing her hatred for children. Neil however grinned madly at the statement, making the wretched scene all the more insufferable.

The night only got progressively worse when Neil scouted them out a secluded table and proceeded to try to engage her in conversation. To his defense he started off well enough, inquiring about the basics in her life in a way that would have been well received by someone actually interested in sharing with him. She deflected his open ended questions with curt statements, chasing him away from further inquiry ("Tell me about your family?". "There's four of us.". "What made you want to work at the Library?". "It was the post that seemed least likely to ignite a desire for homicide.". "What do you want to do with your life?". "Discover a cure for small talk.")

When Neil finally accepted the futility of getting her to talk he reverted to having a seemingly one-sided conversation about himself. Half an hour of her life was drained as he went on about his boring childhood, his pathetic determination to win a Service Award like his father, and his theories about why he wasn't made Head Boy his seventh year. All of this Astoria pretended to listen to without comment, until he brought up the War.

"I was always against those bloody Death Eaters," he stated proudly, as though hating social terrorists was some kind of unique trait. "My Gran's a muggle, and there is no way I'd ever let anything happen to her. I'd risk my life on it."

"Oh, so you were in the DA then?" she inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"Well...no. I mean, I supported it, but I was busy studying for my NEWTs that year, so..."

"I see. But you came back three years later to fight in the Battle of Hogwarts?" she interrupted, leaning back against her chair nonchalantly.

"Ah,no. I would have, but I was out of the country at the time. I envy those who were there though, what a glorious moment to be a part of!" he proclaimed.

"Well I was there," she stated darkly. "And trust me, there was hardly anything glorious about it."

"Then you'll agree that the new Ministry is not taking the punishment of those who were in You-Know-Who's sympathies far enough!" he stated eagerly, turning the subject away from his past actions (or lack there of).

"How do you mean?" she asked flatly, her arms folded across her chest.

"It's all well and good to lock up those with that despicable brand across their arm and drain them of their resources, but what about everyone else who wasn't a Death Eater who helped Him rise to power?" he pressed. "Those spineless Ministry workers who let Him infiltrate the government, all the people who just let those evil sons of bitches walk all over them!"

"Oh, you mean the people whose lives and the lives of their family were being held ransom?" she demanded with inflamed rage.

"They let themselves get into that position," he stated with a dismissive wave of his hand. "My family and I were never asked to choose. And look at you! The Greengrasses, a Pureblood Slytherin family, perfectly innocent of any war atrocities."

"That's only because it worked in the Dark Lord's favor for my father's business to run unimpeded," Astoria shot back. "Trade can always argue a necessity of neutrality if the firm is as important as my father's."

"And what about all those faceless tortures who attacked innocent children?" he demanded without countering her argument. "All those students who attacked Freedom Fighters and got away without punishment?"

"Have you ever tortured someone?" she asked flatly, though her eyes steadily grew darker.

"Of course not! And it's a damn shame that those who have get to walk the world without being reprimanded..."

_Astoria walked swiftly through the stone corridor on the third floor, her OWL study guide clutched tightly to her chest._ Curfew was swiftly approaching and she was determined to make it back to the dungeons before she got into any trouble. She had just approached the staircases when she heard screams and shouts from behind her. She turned around instinctively to see two figures, the squat and lumpy frame of Amycus Carrow, and the tall and slender build of Blaise Zabini, hovering over a crumpled pile of moaning robes.

"Great shot, Mr. Zabini," Carrow praised. "Five points to Slytherin!"

"Just doing my duty, sir," Zabini replied with a smirk. "This weak blooded little runt will think twice before being out past curfew."

"There's still ten minutes left until curfew!" Astoria shouted indignantly, marching up to the pair. The two men glared at her inquisitively, though she saw only the limp and whimpering body of a First Year girl with hay colored hair and frightened eyes, clutching her crimson and gold scarf like a safety blanket.

"For Slytherins, yes," Carrow corrected. "But for pathetic little mix blooded Gryffindors...well, its time this filthy brat learned her place."

"You know, Professor," Zabini stated offhandedly. "If you're in the mood for some extracurricular teaching, I know for a fact Miss Greengrass here has yet to dispense punishment. Perhaps now is a perfect opportunity. I do always love being a part of someone's _first time."_

Astoria was so enraged at his subtle allusion to their romp in the potion's lab she could barely express her hate.

"I have better outlets for my insecurities than picking on helpless eleven year old girls," she spat coldly.

"What a shame," Blaise tutted coldly. "Her sister Daphne has also been unable to help in our cause. Seems like she is incapable of understanding what torture looks like. I'd be more than happy to show her first hand..."

"You lay a hand on her you repulsive bastard, and I swear I'll...!"

"No need for such vulgarities," Carrow interrupted. "And Mister Zabini brings up a good point. We can't have one of our most prominent Pureblood families looking like soft Blood Traitors. At least one of the Greengrass sisters has to show her stripes..."

Astoria's jaw clenched tightly upon recognizing the threat. It was either this little girl or her sister, and no matter what she chose the pain would be on her own head. She tried to calm herself as she turned to the huddled mass on the floor, tried to downplay her hatred so her curse would be weak, so the pain would be less. But all she could do was be fueled by her manipulation, her shame, her rage, all of which were powerful enhancements behind her Unforgivable next move.

"_Crucio..."_

_ "_Trust me," Astoria assured, her stomach churning and her heart dropping. "They've been punished."

_I want your ugly, I want your diseased  
I want your everything as long as it's free__  
I want your love..._

The next half hour went by painfully, and not just because it seemed to drag into eternity. Astoria was encompassed in heart-wrenching guilt as Neil continued to talk obliviously. She couldn't get the face of that little girl out of her head, nor the horrifying shriek she emitted when the curse hit her. But what was even worse was that despite being haunted by this memory, she knew if she had to she would have done it again. She was stronger than Daphne, and she would never forgive herself if she let harm befall her. Better she live with the nightmares, better that the weight of protecting her family be burdened on her soulless shoulders.

Astoria bitterly held back her tears as the face of the terrified girl morphed into that of Draco's. Astoria had only been dealt a brief taste of what it was like to do unspeakable things for her family's safety. Never were she or her sister or parents in any real danger of being killed. Despite Draco's bravado and cruel front she knew he wasn't completely heartless. He suffered from what he had done, and he had been marked in more ways than one because of his transgressions. Hideously scarred, Draco Malfoy would carry the burden of his inhumane acts for the rest of his life.

But, just like her, he would do it all again in order to save his family.

His and Astoria's acts where by no means noble. Far from it, they were both fueled by selfishness and cowardice. Plenty had died rather than give into evil manipulations. But they were both inherently Slytherin, and protecting themselves and their family above all others was how they were programmed. It wasn't something necessarily to be proud of, but Astoria would never be ashamed of being a survivor, and therefore she had to simply accept her acts as part of who she was and live with them.

And so, she imagined, did Draco.

She quickly reached for a new glass of champagne, determined to drown out her thoughts of him. The whole point of this night was to forget. She was already dangerously attached, more so than she ever thought possible. She couldn't let herself continue to be with him knowing it had to end. As she placed down her empty flute she realized she had never hated her curse more than she did now. She knew all the burdens of being a Slytherin Pureblood and was forced to be punished and ridiculed along with that group. And though this shared knowledge and burden brought her and Draco closer together, the same society they suffered for would refuse to let them be together. The irony was disgustingly perfect, a star-crossed punishment better than what any government or religion could think of. Unwittingly falling for someone she could never be with was a torture she was unable to stand, but despite just coming to the conclusion she would not be ashamed of her survival skills, she also wished they weren't so inherent as to push her away from the one place she truly wanted to be.

"Would you like to dance?" Neil inquired, holding out his hand.

"Yeah," she responded emotionlessly, taking his hand in meek defeat. A cold indifference washed over her as he lead her to a secluded spot near the back of the dance floor. She allowed herself to be moved by his clumsy caprice, forcing herself to go hollow as she tried to forget how happy her last dance had made her. A depressed apathy filled her deflated heart as Neil's hand slowly fell from her back, past her waist, until it firmly squeezed her backside. She heard him take a rugged inhaled breath as she didn't knock him away, further prompting his lewd behavior. He pushed her closer to him, and she closed her eyes in unusual shame as his erection pressed against her lower stomach.

Neil took another ragged breath as he cupped her face and tilted it towards his. She immediately shut her eyes tightly, unable to watch what happened next as she felt the heat from his face coming closer. She opened her mouth submissively to his wet and jarring tongue, standing still as his hands roamed down her body and his lips sucked her own. Her only movement was the single tear that rolled down her face, and her only thought was of if he would even notice.

The tear, however, was to never fall upon Neil's flat cheek. Without warning Astoria felt a jolt as the body wrapped around her was quickly torn away. She stumbled forward, and it took a moment for her to find her feet and the new location of her date.

She quickly found him flattened up against the wall, pinned down as a fiercely clutched fist held tightly to the nape of his robes, and he sputtered as the point of a wand jabbed into his neck.

"You keep your filthy fucking hands off her!" Neil's attacker hissed, his eyes going dark as steel.

"Draco!" Astoria expressed in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" he repeated in hissed indignation. "What are you doing here? With _him?_"

"Let go of me, you fucking Death Eater," Neil snapped. "Astoria, run! I'll protect you from this scum."

"SHUT UP!" Draco demanded. "You're already a fucking dead man! Say one more word to her and I assure you it will be a very slow and painful end."

"Draco, stop!" Astoria ordered frantically, trying to hide the scene as other party-goers began to notice them. "Let just take this outside and talk this out."

"I don't negotiate with criminals!" Neil shouted brazenly. Draco clapped his hand over Neil's mouth, his wand still firmly pointed as he pushed him out the backdoor on to the secluded side grounds.

_I want your horror, I want your design  
Cause your a criminal as long as your mine  
I want your love..._

Astoria quickly shut the door behind them, locking it from the outside so no one would come out and interfere. An argument between Neil and Draco could get ugly, and she had enough on her plate to have to worry about an innocent bystander getting caught in the crossfire. The scene behind her still not full processed, Astoria turned to face the two men, determined to make sure they didn't kill one another.

"_Stupefy!" _Draco shouted with a fierce sneer. The jet of red light hit Neil squarely in the chest, sending him flying back into the yard until he collapsed rigidly into a pile of snow.

"What did you do that for?" she spat, hiking up her red dress to trek out after him. Draco quickly shot out his hand and grabbed her arm, swinging her back in front of him.

"I'll do worse to him if I get the chance," he snarled, his jaw clenched so tightly in anger the muscles in his face began to spasm. "He had his hands all over you! He was practically fucking you on the dance floor. He...he kissed you..."

This last admittance seemed to reignite his need to fight, and he swiftly turned to go after the frozen body.

"You have no right to attack my dates, Draco Malfoy!" Astoria shouted, stepping in his way.

"Is this why you dumped me?" he demanded, his anger quickly switching back to her. "So you could go out with that fucking curly-haired prick?"

"Of course not, I have no interest in Neil," she replied indignantly. Though still clearly enraged, a ripple of relief broke out over Draco's face.

"Then why are you here with him?" he inquired firmly.

"That's none of your concern," she spat. "You don't own me!"

"I never fucking said I did!" he roared, towering over her irately. "Shit, you're such a pill! You're so caught up in your twisted assertion for freedom you can't see that all I wanted was..."

"I know what you wanted," she interjected softly, causing a swift end to his shouts. Astoria stared up into his stormy grey eyes and felt an intensely strong emotion overcome her, causing her to shiver slightly as she struggled to speak her next words.

"You... you wanted to secure companionship with someone you care about. Someone who's mere presence makes things better, not because they take your problems away, but simply because they give you comfort in a harsh world. Someone who understands you...who knows when to let things go, when to really pick up on something, and when to kick your fucking door down. Someone who knows who you really are but likes you anyways. Someone who makes you feel like...you actually matter."

"Yes," Draco breathed in admittance, his own voice garnished with a quiver. "All that and...more." Draco reached out a hand to brush her face, but Astoria quickly turned her head away. Draco took a few steps back, and it took every ounce of depleted strength for her to look him in his dejected eyes.

Astoria once again bitterly fought back tears. The night had been absolutely horrible, one of the worst in her life. Her date with Neil had been a mistake, and all it had done was further provoke a desire for Draco. She thought of all the wretched things they had in common, the pressures and burdens they both carried. She thought about the way they fought, about how no one ever made her feel so passionate and alive. Even that very night, moments after she felt like nothing mattered because she couldn't be with him, she was briefly jolted with energy upon Draco's intrusion...his rescue. And worst of all she reflected miserably at how easily their arguments lead to embrace, embraces that made her feel more than just alive, but like her and Draco were the only two people on Earth.

She felt all this and smirked bitterly, her only defense against crying unceasingly.

"What do you want from me?" she asked softly, causing Draco's sharp eyes to focus in on her face. "You want me to fall for you? Be your girlfriend? And what do I have to look forward to in that, huh? At best become your mistress and hear you tell me you only fuck your Pureblood bore of a wife when you're trying to have children?"

"I would never do that to you!" Draco hissed through gritted teeth.

"And I would never let you," she agreed in a continuously quiet tone. "I...I hate this. I hate looking that far into the future and having to stop doing what I want to now. I don't want to think about marriage, I can hardly wrap my mind around being in a relationship. But I can't be with you knowing it is going to have to end_. _I can't...handle that."

Despite the party going on mere feet beside them an eerie silence filled the night. Draco seemed to be fighting with himself, standing his ground stubbornly but unable to say anything to counter her argument. A laugh escaped Astoria's lips as she watched him struggle, unable to help herself as a realization came to her mind.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" he spat icily, a burning rage flickering in his eyes.

"It's just funny, and perfectly fitting for me," she laughed, quickly wiping off the tears that had spilled down her cheeks. "The one person I've ever met who I actually want to be with is someone I only started seeing in the first place because I _knew_ there was no way we could end up together."

Astoria's sad words defused the anger in Draco's face, and he reverted to his previous battle. He stared at the woman in front of him, standing tall despite a look of defeat in her eyes. She wore a fantastic eye-popping red gown, and it killed him that she had worn it for anyone else but him. He had replayed their scene from four nights ago over and over in his head countless times, and each time he had hated himself all the more that had simply turned away without saying anything. Now was his chance, a rare second shot at redemption, but still he couldn't find the words to make it right.

"Well I thought it was funny," she muttered, failing at a smirk as she turned helplessly away.

"I asked you out knowing what you are," he spat quickly, practically shouting the first thing that came into his mind. "I know _who_ you are and I wanted you anyways. _You're_ the one that left."

"And you're the one who didn't chase after me," she rebutted, smiling endearingly at the childish ways he emphasized his words. Draco glared at her, and an established part of him wanted to scoff at her statement, informing her that Malfoys didn't chase after anybody, Malfoys didn't beg. But another part of him, a newer part of him, forced the first line of thought to shove it, stating that it had inflicted enough damage in their lives. And it was this new part of Draco that finally found some words to say.

"Azzy, these last four days have been...bad," he began slowly as he struggled to voice how he felt. "I've been completely alone in the Manor, left with nothing to do but stare at all the shit we own and dig threw my own head. I've been so miserable for so long that for awhile I forgot that I could be a different way. But lately I've started to have hope. I feel like the world is opening up, that something big is about to happen that is about to change my life. And I know that this change in mind is because of you."

Draco paused after the admittance, taking a brave step forward as Astoria stared at him with an unyielding expression.

_ "_You make me feel worthwhile again, something I haven't felt in ages, and I refuse to let you go. I made up my mind days ago that there were four things I was determined to do, and one of those was not to let anything stand in the way of what I wanted if I had the power to overturn it. And I'm for damn sure not going to let something get between us if we both want to be together," he proclaimed, taking the last few steps to erase the distance between them and placing his hands firmly on her waist.

"Draco," Astoria mewed, neither pulling away nor looking at him. "I told you I can't handle our future..."

"To hell with the fucking future!" Draco exclaimed. "I need you now, and the only thing I care about past that is not letting you go."

"But _Draco_," Astoria repeated angrily, but he quickly silenced her as he grabbed her face and he leaned his head in close to hers so their eyes lined up.

_ "_You're not listening to me," he all but growled. "I _need_ you, and just like you said, I feel like if we keep being together I'm just going to need you more..."

Draco trailed off on his words, realizing where his line of thought was ending. Shocked, he stared down into the large and anxious green eyes of the girl in front of him; his problem, his muse, his desire. Her face was blotched by the cold, her too strong jawline shivered from the temperature, and her aristocratic nose sniffed unflatteringly from both weather and emotion.

She was beautiful, and he knew then exactly what he had to say.

"Look, Astoria, I can't make you any promises or predict anything, but what I can tell you is that if we keep going together, and I keep feeling for you the way I do now...I don't think I could ever let you go. _Ever_. Not for anything."

Astoria's mouth dropped slightly at his admission, and Draco watched her vibrant irises pool with tears. She jerked her head away before he could see any of them fall, and instead she very lightly touched her forehead to his chest.

"That was actually the perfect thing to say to me," she admitted, lifting up her head strongly. Her face held no tears but a sly, beaming smirk that accentuated her glowing eyes.

"Of course it was, that's why I said it," he responded, happiness and victory coursing through his veins.

"You know, we'll probably end up killing one another before any of this becomes an issue," she projected, running her hands slowly up his chest before wrapping themselves around his neck.

"Well that will solve all of our problems then, won't it?" he retorted, reeling in the delight of being able to once again roll his hands across her hips.

"And you're certain," she asked suddenly, with a hidden timidness, "that you want to be with me?"

"Astoria, you are an insane, reckless pain in the ass," he assured firmly, stroking her sides with his thumb. "But you're my pain in the ass."

Astoria let out a gasping laugh before breaching the last inches of space between them, eagerly catching his lips with her own. Relief, happiness and warmth consumed her as Draco returned the kiss hungrily, pulling her into him as tightly as he could. Astoria instantly felt a paradigm shift occur as she needfully deepened the kiss. The last of her barriers of being with Draco, her old stance against relationships in general and her constraining fears against forced separation, all evaporated. She found herself elevating him to an arena henceforth only occupied by her sister. He was hers to protect, hers to enjoy, hers to fight for. She felt terrified and elated at this addictive feeling, and she never wanted the moment to end. It was absolutely perfect, and nothing could possibly enhance or ruin it.

That was until loud crackled explosions filled the night air, startling the couple out of their relationship cementing embrace. Draco's hold on her instantly switched from that of loving into a ridged protection, and they both looked around keenly, ready to spot out the attack.

"Ew, that did not just happen," Astoria muttered in a flattened disgust as she realized what was happening.

"Fireworks," Draco proclaimed, an amused smirk plastered on his face. "Must be midnight."

"This is the tackiest thing I have ever been a part of!" she announced bitterly. "This perfectly nice moment has been transformed into a scene out of a bad romance novel."

"Well, if you had just accepted my relationship proposal from the other night, none of this would have happened," he stated lazily as he continued to grin. "There would have been no fireworks, the last four days wouldn't have sucked, you wouldn't have gone out with..."

"Well, if _you_ had just said all those things then...Draco?" Astoria stared as her boyfriend's face turned into an evil sneer before he turned off into the yard, interrupting her interruption. She watched him march determinedly out into the snow and crouch menacingly over the still stunned but slightly moving body of Neil Pratchett.

"You're a despicable monster, Malfoy!" Neil spat from frozen lips. "And as far as I'm concerned your bitch is every bit as much of a criminal as you are as long as she's with you!"

Draco leaned over swiftly and once again grabbed him by the nape of his robes, pulling his paralyzed body close to his face.

"I'd transfigure you into a flubberworm and crush you under my feet if I weren't wearing my favorite boots," Draco hissed before spitting him in the face.

"Draco, behave," Astoria commanded, stepping behind him and placing a hand on his shoulder. "I still have to work with him. Just modify his memory and lets get out of here."

"Whatever you say, _darling_," Draco replied, a slight sarcasm entwined with the conservative endearment.

"Thank you, _dear,_" she replied in a similar manner, and even though his back was turned he knew she was scowling. Smirking at their new game, he returned his attention back to the ridged body beneath him.

"Do what you want with me, you scum!" Neil expressed vehemently. "But I'll never forget it and will not rest until you pay..."

"_Obliviate_," Draco cast, almost lazily. Neil's eyes immediately glossed over, and he stared at the two figures above him in wonder.

"What-what happened?" he muttered. "Where am I?"

"You're at a New Year's Eve party," Draco spat. "You came here with Astoria, _as coworkers_, danced with her once, then relinquished her to me after I arrived. We all came out here to watch the pretty fireworks, and you were just saying that you were about to leave..."

"After you finished talking about suggesting to Mr. Alkek that I get a raise," Astoria interjected swiftly. Draco turned to her with a raised eyebrow and a look of impression on his face.

"What?" she inquired in an unabashed tone. "Performance reviews are coming up and I'm certainly not going to receive one based off good behavior."

Draco shot her a wicked and lusty gaze before turning his head back to the man still on his knees.

"You heard the lady," he growled, picking Neil up to his feet and shaking him slightly. "Now off with you."

Neil staggered forward blankly, giving them both a happy wave goodbye before wandering aimlessly across the grounds.

"That was most impressive," Astoria granted, leaning up against him slightly. "You're very persuasive."

"Well, manipulation is kind of my forte," he replied, snaking his arm back around her.

"You should really think about going into business," she suggested playfully. "You'd make a killing."

"There's only one business that I'm interested in at the moment," he replied, smirking as he turned back to her. With one hand still wrapped around her waist, he slid his second around until it found her backside, squeezing it firmly as though reclaiming it back from the stolen contact from earlier this evening. Astoria smiled at him and brought her face up for another kiss...

_I want your love and I want your revenge  
You and me could write a bad romance  
I want your love and all your lover's revenge  
You and me could write a bad romance _

"Well that was different," Astoria proclaimed.

"Hmm?" Draco hummed lazily in response. The two of them sat on her bare floor propped up against her couch wrapped in her green blanket, watching her fire crackle peacefully as they shared a single glass of wine.

"The sex," she explained contemplatively. "It's never been like that before."

"How do you mean?" he asked, though he himself seemed contentedly drained and un-inquisitive. Astoria thought back.

After ditching Neil they had swiftly returned to her flat. The moment they Apperated back they attacked each other, kissing and undressing one another with a fierce hunger. They paused only when Draco noticed the cheap carnations placed haphazardly in one of her vases as Astoria swiftly unbuttoned his shirt. He let her slide the garment off before he ripped the flowers from their stand. He glared at the bouquet intensely before the petals quickly erupted into flames. He watched them burn with intense satisfaction before he tossed them in the fireplace, causing the flat to glow warm with a soft, romantic light.

"What?" he inquired lightly at her arched eyebrow. "I thought you might like some ambiance." He left no further room for questioning as he scooped her up in his arms and laid them down in front of the fireplace.

It had been an extremely intense and powerful union, one which she could still feel the effects of. Every touch was soft but powerful. She had felt like they were exploring one another's body for the first time, even though they both knew exactly how to work one another. A sense of completeness engulfed her as his weight pressed against her, though still she greedily desired more. She couldn't get enough of him as her hands slid over his muscular arms, his silky blonde hair, his handsome pointed face. Draco leaned down and kissed her vehemently in a seemingly never ending succession.

"I hated thinking I would never kiss you again," he admitted in a murmur against her ear. Astoria quickly cupped his face gently and brought him back to her lips in assurance, kissing him in unrestrained need so he didn't have to feel any doubt about her desire. They continued this way as he rocked into her slowly and rhythmically, building them up gently until they pushed themselves forward into ecstasy.

Despite being together countless times, this had been the first instance where they had made love. And as amazing as it had been, it left Astoria with a few questions.

"You know what I mean," she replied, laying her head on his shoulders.

"Am I hearing a complaint?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow. "Because I interpreted those moaned "Oh, fuck, Dracos!" to be a good thing."

"No, it was amazing," she assured. "But you have to admit it was very different from our usual course. I was just wondered if sex changed when you were in a relationship with someone. I'm new to this whole boyfriend/girlfriend thing."

"I don't know, not necessarily," he ventured, throwing his head back against the couch as she forced him into thinking. "I think our situation this night called for sex like that, but we'll still, you know, _fuck,_ surely. Only..."

"Only what?" she asked, turning up to look at him.

"Well, its just that the first few times we were together I was purely out to get you, and I kind of wanted to fuck you to death. Now I would prefer it if you were alive and around for later," he explained in half jest.

"Oh," she said lightly, biting her lip as she absorbed his comment. "But you can still fuck me to the _edge_ of my life, right?"

"Fuck!" Draco responded with a laugh. "You're an adorable mental case, you know that?"

Astoria grinned as he wrapped his arms tighter around her, finishing off the last of their wine as she curled up close to him.

"Hey," he inquired hesitantly. "You weren't going to invite Neil over tonight, were you?"

"No," she responded with an absurd laugh. "He was so far from interesting. In fact, I actually haven't been with anyone else since you. Not always as an affectionate thing, I was really busy when we first started sleeping together. But as time wore on there was just no need for anyone else to satisfy me. Nobody else could come close."

Draco sat quietly, enthralled to know no one else had touched her, but hesitant as he couldn't give a truthful similar response.

"Don't worry," she replied with an affectionate laugh. "I know you can't say the same thing, you slag. There was at least Pansy..."

"Only Pansy," he interrupted, as though this somehow made things better. "And I broke off ties with her when I realized I wanted to be with you."

"So that explains Christmas," she responded playfully. "And I knew about the two of you beforehand so there is no call for jealousy. Besides, it's not like you were fucking us back to back without showering or anything."

Draco immediately tensed up at the suggestion of this scenario, and he tried his best to formulate something to say. Unfortunately, Astoria felt his spasm, and she read his silence more quickly than any other girl he had come across.

"Oh Merlin!" she shouted dreadfully, prying herself out of his arms and covering herself with a sheet.

"Azzy, wait..." Draco implored, climbing to his feet.

"You fucked us both right after one another? Without even bothering to _clean off_?"

"It only happened once, and it was an accident!" he proclaimed.

"What, you slipped out of one of us and into the other?" she demanded. "Who did you do first? WHO?"

Draco stared at her helplessly, unable to bring himself to tell her.

"It was her, wasn't it?" she shrieked. "She was still on you when you were inside _me?_ One of the few people I really hate!"

"Azzy, please...!"

"Don't you dare call me Azzy! That's not my fucking name and you have no right to call me that!" she yelled. "I want you out of my flat and out of my sight you fucking asshole!"

"No!" Draco pleaded, his body all but collapsing as she pointed towards the door. He had had her. Finally, he had found something that made him happy, fulfilled, and he was losing her over a stupid, meaningless mistake. Without further thought he dropped to his knees like a deadweight, refusing to believe what she said and staring up at her heartbroken.

"Astoria, please! I'm..."

Draco was cut off from his plead as he realized Astoria had started laughing.

"Damn your easy," she choked out from her giggles.

"What...this was all a fucking joke?" he demanded angrily, springing to his feet.

"Of course! As long as you don't cheat on me now I don't care who you fucked before," she replied casually. "You know, this girlfriend thing is gonna be fun."

She flashed him a smug smile and a shrug as she walked away from him, leaving him to stand fuming by the door. An angry and callous rage filled him at her cruel idea of a laugh, and he swiftly turned around and marched after her.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you for this!" he shouted, a fierce sneer adorning his face.

"Here's hoping," she responded with a lovely smile, dropping her sheet so it pooled around her ankles. She gave him a lusty smile as her eyes flickered over his own naked frame before she sauntered slowly into her bedroom.

Draco stood out in the hallway in shock, her manipulative ploy finally dawning on him. He couldn't help but smile begrudgingly. If this is what it meant to be had by Astoria, he thought as he followed her into her room, he would make sure she was punished just as much as he.

_Cause I'm a free bitch, baby._

**(A/N: Wow, this is my first story where the couple gets together in the middle of the plot instead of the end. But rest assured there are still plenty of goodies and issues to come, like parent reactions, couple fights, and Draco _finally_ figuring away to make money. Monkeyheart- Draco got the muggle money from the wallet he found on the ground outside his Manor, the one that fell out of Buford Wilkinson's pocket as he was tossed out. I'm glad you asked because that's kind of important for later...thanks for the reviews! They fuel me so!) **


	18. Reactions

Reactions

Draco was stirred out of his peaceful sleep to the sound of Astoria's chiming alarm. He grunted as he felt her burrow from under the covers, silencing the ringing before returning to the warm sanctuary of her blankets. Astoria always woke up early when she had to work, even when her shift wasn't until later in the evening. Something about not wanting to the waste the day or some rubbish like that. It was an obnoxious quirk to deal with by someone who was used to sleeping as late as he wanted.

Of course there were certain advantages to such a practice, he thought with a grin, especially as some parts of him were more awake than others.

He scooted closer to her body, slowly running his hand up her hips as his fingers traced light patterns on her silk nightie. With his other hand he brushed her inky hair away from her neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin gently. Her quiet, half-awake whimper encouraged and aroused him further and he tightened his hold on her, spilling his hands down to her thighs before they slowly crept up into her disheveled night gown.

"How is it that you're so bloody sexy even in the morning?" he murmured against her ear, sucking gently on her lobe as his hand continued its trek up her legs.

"Stop," she demanded sternly, not bothering to open her eyes. "You know the rules."

Draco pulled back incredulously, staring at her with mouth agape as _surely_ she had not been serious.

"I'm not going to tell you twice, now go," she ordered firmly, though he caught a flash of that infuriatingly obnoxious smirk before she buried her head into her pillow. Draco pressed his lips together in offense, prepared to tell her off completely. Unfortunately his still-not-quite-awake mind was further compromised by his pressing loins. With no other foreseeable alternative he released a relenting grunt, tossed the covers off of him in tantrum, and walked naked through her chilled flat into her bathroom.

"You make it really fucking hard to be romantic," he spat as he turned on her sink faucet.

"There is nothing romantic about you waking up with a hard-on and your bad morning breath," she countered instantly from the warm confines of her bed.

"And why the hell did you have to go and buy me a pink toothbrush?" he demanded as he began to scrub his teeth violently.

"I didn't buy _you_ anything. They only sold them in packs of two, and why would I want to use the pink one?"

Draco spit loudly into the sink, wiping his mouth off quickly with her folded hand towel before dropping it on the ground.

"You happy now?" he inquired nastily, stepping into her room with his arms folded across his bare chest. He found her sitting up primly, awaiting his return. A large smile crossed her face as she snapped her arm forward as though cracking a whip, completing the motion with the concurrent sound effect.

Draco dashed from his position at the door and flew on top of her, pinning her hands against her headboard as he straddled her.

"Do that again!" he demanded forcefully, but he couldn't help his sly smirk from crossing his face as she struggled playfully underneath him. He quickly released his hold but began to tickle her mercilessly, laughing with manic satisfaction as she squirmed and squealed helplessly.

"Do that again, bitch," he repeated as she resisted, grabbing the hem of her emerald green nightgown and pushing it up so it scrunched into a tight bundle under her arms. He ran one of his hands across her indulgently, starting roughly between her legs, sliding up her stomach and passing slowly over her breasts before he clutched her face possessively. Still propped up against her headboard, Astoria moaned as Draco thrust into her, clutching his neck as he pumped in forcefully.

"Who's fucking whipped now, huh?" he asked through breathless kisses. Astoria bit down on his lip for good measure, satisfied with his wince and the way he retaliated by pushing her knees up against her body, increasing the power of his thrusts as he did so. She let her legs rest over his shoulders, fully intent on enjoying the encroachment of her orgasm, when she was torn from her pleasure by a loud knock on her front door.

"Who is that?" Draco inquired, startled out of his pumps. "Who the hell is even _up_ this early?"

"I don't know," she answered truthfully. She placed a sweet kiss on his cheek before pushing him off lightly. Draco released an irritated scoff, scowling as he pulled himself out of her. Without another word she watched him roll of her bed, enter her bathroom, and slam the door shut.

Shaking her head out of both annoyance and amusement she got up, searched for her black robe that had been torn off her the night before, and curiously stepped out into her living room to answer the continuously pound upon door.

"Mother?" Astoria inquired in surprise.

"What the hell have you been doing?" her mother snapped, flipping her auburn hair as she pushed past her hastily.

"Sleeping like any normal person," Astoria shot back, narrowing her eyes.

"You were supposed to go to your father's banquet last night," Phoebe spat, placing her hands on her formidable hips.

"Oh, that's right," Astoria responded with a wince, instantly feeling traces of guilt. That had actually been an event she didn't mind going to and had fully intended on attending with minimal grief. But in the past few weeks she had been very preoccupied with work, her potion, and Draco. She had discovered that being a girlfriend was awfully time consuming, but had felt like she had set up a proper balance between all the aspects in her life. All of them except the ones required by her family, apparently.

"Well, young lady, just what do you have to say for yourself?" Phoebe inquired. "Tell me why I shouldn't go to your father this instant and demand he stop paying for your little potions flat here, hmm?"

"Mrs. Greengrass, what a pleasant surprise. I do hope all is well."

Phoebe Greengrass spun around and her mouth nearly dropped. She watched a barefooted Draco Malfoy walk out of her daughter's bedroom, dressed in slightly wrinkled but nonetheless classically fashionable robes, buttoning the last of his shirt buttons as he stood next to her scantily clad youngest.

"Everything is fine," Phoebe replied breathlessly, not believing the scene that took place in front of her.

"Wonderful," he explained drolly, quickly lacing up his boots. "I'll leave you two ladies to your family business."

He stood up in front of Astoria, very pointedly giving her a firm kiss before taking his leave.

"We still on for tonight, darling?" he asked her candidly.

"Of course, dear," Astoria replied with a small smirk. Draco bowed his head courteously to Mrs. Greengrass before walking out the door.

"Good gracious, Astoria! _Draco Malfoy_?" Phoebe exclaimed dramatically.

"What of it?" Astoria demanded defensively, shooting her mother a threatening look.

"How long has this been going on?" she asked breathlessly.

"A few months," Astoria replied with a shrug. "But it's only been serious for a couple weeks."

"You're _serious_ with him? _You_?" her mother repeated as though Confunded. "What about Pansy?"

"What about Pansy?" Astoria spat, folding her arms across her chest indignantly.

"You mean you stole him from her?" Phoebe inquired, becoming more stunned by the moment. "Your own cousin?"

"It's not like it was very hard," she responded firmly. "And I don't care if she is my cousin, she's a useless bore. If I wanted Draco why should I give a damn if she had him first?"

"Astoria Greengrass!" her mother snapped firmly, taking a long stride over to her daughter. "I have never been so...so proud in my entire life!"

The wind and wits were knocked out of Astoria as her mother engulfed her in a crushing hug. Gasping for breath, she could only sputter as her mother rocked them back and forth.

"You're killing me!" Astoria exclaimed, though her proclamation seemed to fall on deaf ears. "Why couldn't you have reacted this way when I got my 12 OWLs?"

"My baby has a man!" Phoebe squealed. "A good man!"

"Good man? He's a washed up criminal!" Astoria expressed.

"Oh hogwash," her mother dismissed, finally releasing her death grip. "He's a Malfoy. He'll always be on top he just has to find his feet. Oh, I am so pleased with you! Are you keeping him satisfied? I know you can't really cook but you've run around with enough boys to at least know something about the bedroom."

"Wow, the sun's hardly up and already my mother is calling me a slag and whoring me out," Astoria spat with little amusement.

"I'm serious," Phoebe pressed firmly. "Men are terribly fickle and needy creatures. They want to be extremely close to someone who will leave them alone, and the mark of a good woman is being constantly on call."

Astoria's eyes widened in slight shock, feeling that there was a hint of good advice in her mother's psychosis.

"I know...that's why I missed the banquet last night. Draco needed me." Astoria gritted her teeth after completing her sentence, and hoped that if she was selling out to her mother she was at least getting a good price.

"Don't say another word!" Phoebe expressed adamantly. "I'll clear everything up with your father. Draco is your number one priority right now, and you focus all you have on him. I promise I won't let anything keep you away from him."

_Jackpot_, Astoria thought as she feigned a dopy grin for her mother.

"I just can't believe it!" Phoebe continued to rave. "My daughter and a Malfoy, how wonderful! Oh but poor Pansy and Acacia, they must be _dying..."_

"Mother, don't," Astoria warned pointedly, narrowing her eyes once again.

"Don't worry a thing about the family, I've got it covered," her mother expressed. "You just rest up for Draco's visit tonight. Maybe think about getting a nicer, shorter robe?"

* * *

Draco was torn away from reading through the Finance section of the Daily Prophet as a book was dumped in his lap.

"What is this?" he asked, folding his paper and placing it on the library table.

"A new business book that just came in," Astoria explained. "It's a compilation of stories and investment advice given by some of the most successful moguls in the world. There is a reserve list about a foot long for it."

"And yet you're giving it to me?" he inquired, impressed as he read the back of the cover.

"Well, you know how easily things can get lost in the mail," she replied distantly, grinning as she trailed off. "Besides, I know you've been pouring through books like this. I figured you could use all the help you could get."

"Is this my reward for getting you out of the Daughters of Slytherin function tonight?" he hypothesized with a smile, dropping the book into his bag.

"If you want it to be, sure," she answered. "I guess I'll just have to return what I bought today at Madam Malkins' "intimate apparel" section..."

"Take back the book, I want that," he demanded, hastily trying to shove the book back into her hands while pulling her on to his lap. Astoria released her private little giggle as she tried to push him away, but it was still far too easy to get her to sit and kiss him.

"Oh, you two are so sweet!" Cheri crooned from across the Reference Desk. Astoria leapt like a frightened cat off him, standing staunchly with a stern countenance.

"We are nothing of the sort!" Astoria proclaimed quickly.

"You should really come out with Barry and me sometime!" she expressed excitedly. "Astoria, you and I are always saying how we should hangout outside of work, and Draco you would absolutely _love_ Barry!"

"I don't _love_ any bloke, I like banging girls," Draco responded, digging back into his paper.

"And you're the one who suggests that we hangout. I only say 'maybe' to get you off the subject," Astoria added.

"It would be so much fun though!" Cheri pressed. "And Barry just got the new Fyrefly, it's supposed to be the best in the world for Chasers. I swear he loves that thing more than me sometimes."

"Cheri, when are you going to get it through your head that Draco and I don't like other people? We hardly like each other," Astoria expressed as Draco nodded in agreement.

"Oh, Astoria! One day I'll breech that hard candy coating of yours and reach your soft taffy inside!" Cheri proclaimed.

"Speaking as someone who has actually been inside of her, I can tell you you're wasting your time," Draco countered with a grin, not bothering to look up from his paper. "She's all hard."

"Now that is just not appropriate library behavior," Cheri tisked as Astoria laughed at the comment. "You, me, lunch tomorrow during our break."

"Fine," Astoria finally relented. "But you're paying and I'm picking. Now go to the back and finish cataloging so I can go home!" Astoria struggled to suppress her grin as Cheri squealed and hugged her before dashing to the back. She then turned to face Draco, ready to hear the hell he was going to give her for finally giving into Cheri, when another figure walked towards their table.

"Merlin, does the torment in this place never end?" Draco muttered under his breath, catching sight of Hermione traversing their direction.

"Be nice," Astoria demanded, batting at his arm for further emphasis. She ignored his over-exaggerated expressions of pain and smiled as Hermione approached them.

"Hi," Astoria greeted.

"Hello Astoria. Hello Draco, you're looking well," she beamed. Astoria grinned. Ever since they had been dating Hermione had been trying to get Draco to be polite to her. Draco hated this and wanted nothing more than to retaliate, but couldn't under his girlfriend's watchful eye.

"Granger," he replied curtly. "You don't look particularly homely today."

"He's right," Astoria replied, tilting her head. Something was different about her today. Hermione released a bright but sly smile as she was being evaluated. Despite it being the dead of winter Hermione emitted a radiant glow, and her usually ridged posture seemed more relaxed and at ease.

"You and Ron tried 'the thing' didn't you?" Astoria conjectured.

"We did," Hermione blushed. "It was…amazing."

"What thing?" Draco asked, looking up at the girls grinning nonsensically.

"You know, 'the thing'," Astoria explained. "What's the only thing that makes me smile like that?"

"You mean _my_ thing?" Draco proclaimed. "You told her about _my thing_?"

"You're hardly the first to attempt it," Astoria replied. "You're just the only one who's been able to master it so far."

"That's fucking disgusting," he spat, sitting up from the table. "That's _my_ thing! I'm not going to stand for some Weasley trying to pull off _my_ thing." Draco marched away from the Reference Desk towards the exit in anger, prepared to take back what was his.

"What are you going to do?" Astoria inquired in amusement. "Kill him?"

"Why the hell did you tell her that?" he demanded. "I don't want _her_ knowing about what we do."

"How could I not tell her when you pull that on me right before I go to work?" she countered with a grin. "I could hardly stand and couldn't stop smiling."

"I still don't want people knowing the details of our private times," he countered, though his resolve softened slightly as it made room for his pride. "Especially people like Granger and Weasley."

"I know, I'm sorry," she replied, taking a step forward and lightly running her hand up his chest. "But in my defense the blood and oxygen levels in my brain were still depleted. I can hardly be faulted for not thinking straight."

Draco grinned at her comment and let her wrap her arms around his neck.

"I still hate your friends," he whispered huskily in her ear, pulling her in closer as his hands rested on her hips.

"What a coincidence, because I hate yours," she replied. "Isn't it wonderful how we keep finding things we have in common?"

"Very cute," he responded with a sneer. "I'll let it drop this time, but if it happens again I'm taking 'the thing' away from you."

Astoria replied with an irresistible pout, leaving Draco no choice but to kiss her. As she pressed up against him, deepening the contact, he couldn't help but think about all the things he wanted to do to her. He would take her home, tie her up in punishment, and tease her to the end of her life until she squirmed helplessly underneath him, begging for him to fuck her. Then he would finish her with his master stroke, reminding her just who she was dealing with and how no one could do it better. He found himself getting excited just thinking about it, and he broke the kiss to give her a lusty gaze. A flash of premonition crossed her bright eyes and he watched with immense satisfaction as she bit her lip in anticipation. Draco was prepared to whisk them back to her flat that very instant, when their extremely intimate moment was once again interrupted by another.

"I don't believe this!" a squalling voice shouted out. Draco and Astoria tore their gazes from one another and found their eyes lying on a very distressed and fuming looking witch.

"Pansy?" Draco inquired. "What are you doing here?"

"Seeing for my own eyes the trash I thought my whore of an aunt was just spouting to me!" she proclaimed. "I'm going to kill you, you bitch!"

Pansy leapt at Astoria, apparently ready to gouge her eyes out. Draco quickly stepped in between the two, capturing Pansy and pushing her between the rows of bookcases so they would be out of sight. He wanted to continue to restrain her, not for Astoria's sake, but for her own. Astoria's eyes had glazed over into a powerful, unreadable force, and the small smirk on her face completed the notion that she had no qualms over taking her cousin out once and for all. Pansy however seemed too upset to realize the danger she was in, and quickly squirmed out of his hold.

"This is why you left me?" Pansy inquired through dramatic sobs. "So you could be with this monster?"

"No, he left you because you're an insufferable twat," Astoria replied.

"Draco! She's an imposture and a complete slag! How could you ever choose her over me?"

"Because I'm much smarter than you are, far more interesting, a superior shag in every way…need I continue?" Astoria asked in a snarky tone.

"Shut up!" Pansy cried. "I swear I'll kill you if it's the last thing I do."

"It will be if you even try to lay a hand on her," Draco interjected firmly before Astoria could throw in her own response.

"Draco!" Pansy sobbed desperately. "My only love, how could you do this to me? We're supposed to get married! We're…"

"Pansy, there is no we. There really never was. Now stop making a scene and just leave now before you make a complete fool of yourself or Astoria decimates you. I'll never feel for you the way I feel for her so just go."

Draco switched his gaze from the distraught Pansy over to Astoria. The malice in her gaze had softened, and she held a small smile on her face reflecting her gratitude and affection.

"I'm not going to just take this!" Pansy shrieked. "I'll expose her for who she really is! Then everyone will know the truth and there will be no way the two of you could be together!"

Draco stared at her irately, the rage building upon itself with every passing second. He couldn't believe he had been with this thing for as long as he had, and part of him wanted to strangle the life out of her for her threat. Astoria on the other hand remained calm, seemingly unaffected by the blackmail. In fact, she released her own sign of danger upon her cousin: she smiled.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," she stated coolly. "Dirty little secrets have their way of coming out all at once."

"What the hell can you do to me?" Pansy shot back nastily. "I'm an actual Pureblood! There isn't a drop of Muggle blood in me!"

"No, you just let Muggles fuck you on something called a pool table in one of their shoddy pubs," Astoria replied quickly. A look of complete shock crossed Pansy's face at the suggestion and she backed a couple steps away, finally rightly afraid of her younger cousin.

"How did you…what an outrageous accusation!" Pansy stuttered sloppily. "No one would ever believe you."

"What if I said I knew how to get my hands on a copy of that 'growth removal' procedure you had done six weeks after the little incident, hmm?" Astoria inquired, closing the distance between them slowly. "Then you really couldn't say you've _never_ had any Muggle blood inside you, could you?"

"How could you possibly…?"

"My mother isn't the only one with a loud, drunken mouth," Astoria explained quickly. All the blood seemed to drain out of Pansy's face, and quivers shook her whole body.

"I'll be ruined! No one will want me after that…"

"I suggest then that we keep our private matters within the family, _Cousin_. Upholding our family name is the most important role we Pureblood women have, after all," Astoria reminded coyly, smiling easy in her obvious victory. Pansy looked from her smug cousin over to Draco, who only had eyes for Astoria. She saw the way he looked at her; a complex mix of impression, recognition, adoration and lust, and she realized he had never once looked at her in any manner nearing such intensity. She fought back a wailing sob as she was forced to recognize her loss, and she fled from the scene as quickly as her feet could carry.

Astoria allowed a flicker of pity to dash across her face before she relaxed into her own smirk.

"I think we should add 'is a better blackmailer' to the list of why I am more desirable than she," Astoria suggested with a falsely humble shrug.

"That was without a doubt the sexiest sight I've ever seen," Draco proclaimed, smirking as he returned his hands to her jutting hips.

"Well that should just go as a further lesson that people should just not mess with me," she stated.

"I can't believe Pansy is a Mugglefucker," Draco spat in disgust. "You've never slept with one, have you?"

"Of course not! I do have my standards, however low I've let them drop recently." Astoria patted Draco's cheek affectionately before sauntering off towards the exit, grinning in anticipation as she waited for him to absorb the offense and stake revenge.

* * *

"I still can't believe you talked me into this," Astoria grumbled, shoving the paper bag of groceries into Draco's arms. "_Tricked_ me into it is more like it."

"Don't even act like you haven't used oral sex as leverage for something you wanted," he replied with a smirk. "You told me you would give me anything I asked for if I finished you."

"I was being kinky," she spat in ire. "I didn't think you'd say 'cook me a roast dinner' and then actually expect me to follow through."

"You obviously still have a lot to learn about relationships," he countered smugly, loving the frustrated expression she wore.

"You are so not getting laid tonight," she informed simply, walking down the crowded street of Diagon Ally without looking at him.

"Small price to pay for the delicious taste of victory," he shrugged, reviling in the moment. She kept her pace quick, fuming and refusing to acknowledge him as they made their way back to her flat. He easily kept up with her, snaking an arm across her hips as they walked. She didn't pull away, and though her face was set in irritation she couldn't full suppress her amused smile.

"You're so beautiful when you're pissed off, did you know that?" he inquired through a light whisper.

"You're getting murdered in your sleep tonight," she spat back, though she could no longer keep from smiling. Draco chuckled softly, kissing her cheek as he pulled her in closer. He was about to banter with her further when he caught sight of a familiar white Stetson exiting the doors of Gringotts. Draco froze as he watched him walk their direction. His parents had extended their trip with the Texan for a few extra weeks, and though that was all he had heard from the matter Draco expected that the prolonged visit had meant that progress was finally being made. Rhett's sudden return however left a chilling feeling in his stomach, especially as his parents had given him no word on either their success or their return. Without thinking he strode over to him, unresponsive to Astoria's inquiries.

"Draco, my boy," Rhett called out with a slight hesitance upon catching sight of him. "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes?"

"When did you return?" Draco asked curtly. "Are my parents back too?"

"And who is your little friend here?" Rhett inquired, seemingly relieved that he had found a way to two-step around the question.

"This is Astoria," he introduced quickly.

"Ah yes, the Greengrass girl," Miller mused knowingly, tipping his hat in greeting. "I've heard a lot about you over the last few weeks."

"If Lucius Malfoy was the one portraying me I'm sure you're shocked that I am fully clothed and not trying to seduce my way in to a Gringotts' vault," she muttered in curtsey.

"Looks like you got yourself a spitfire, son!" Miller laughed. "I love that in a woman!"

"My parents," Draco urged.

"Ah yes, I'm actually glad I ran into you. You mind if we talk in private, Miss Greengrass?" Miller asked.

"Oh. No, er, not at all," Astoria replied hesitantly.

Draco handed the bag of groceries to her and assured her he'd be home for dinner before he and Miller took off. They grabbed a cup of tea and Draco sat silently as Miller explained himself. Rhett assured him that though the Malfoys meant a lot to him, he couldn't help them out of their bind. It was just a poor investment, one which he couldn't bring himself to make. He had decided that Lucius had lost his touch at managing his finances and Rhett couldn't soil his own name by tying himself to him.

Draco listened quietly as he was subtly told that his family name was forever ruined, that even their oldest friend was unwilling and unable to save them. Rhett rambled on in apology which Draco was unable to hear. Rhett continued to try and perk Draco up, he even handed him an envelope and winked in his regular charming manner. Draco quickly slipped it in his robe and promptly forgot about it. He cut Miller off in the middle of one of his sentences, bade an icy farewell, and left the shop without looking back.

Hours slipped by without realization, and before he knew any better it was long past dark. Draco had wandered the streets brooding over his conditions. He was officially ruined. His family was steadily reaching bankruptcy and there was no one willing to help them. Lucius was unwilling to change his ways, to evolve to new circumstances. His father was effectively exterminating his family and all Draco could do was watch as it happened.

It was not until the nightly snow began to descend and his stomach started to growl that he was torn out of his self-pity. He had forgotten all about Astoria and the dinner she had planned for them. The last thing he needed at the moment was a fight. He didn't want to argue over being late or justify his actions. All he wanted was to disappear off the planet, or sleep for eternity. But with his parents back he really had no place else to go, and he forced his feet towards the Apothecary.

He opened up the door to her flat without knocking and was surprised to see that nearly all the lights were already out. Though it was dark it surely wasn't late enough for her to be in bed. He turned his attention to the only source of light: a single, half burnt out candle on her dining room table. Two plates lay out filled with rib roast, tossed salad and roasted red potatoes along with a bottle of red wine. One of the plates was half-eaten while the other still emitted steam as though it had just been laid out, having been charmed to keep its proper temperature. A seed of guilt took root in his stomach as he looked at the scene, and he quickly picked up and drained his pre-poured glass of wine.

His preoccupation with dinner caused him to miss Astoria appearing from her bedroom. She had curled her hair nicely and touched up her makeup from the morning. He imagined she had probably also dressed up at one point, perhaps even in her slinky black dress that she had been wearing the first time they had been together, the one he always told her was his favorite. Now however she had changed back into her emerald green nighty, which was equally as enchanting.

She looked beautiful, and he felt horrid.

"Hey," she called out to him lightly.

"Sorry," he muttered, taking to his chair and staring at the meal in front of him.

"It's alright," she returned simply, walking over to him. Draco tried picking up his fork to cut into his roast, but he immediately winced in pain and dropped the utensil.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked, spotting the scrapes and dried blood that covered his knuckles.

"I punched a wall," he admitted stoically.

"Did it help?" she inquired, unable to keep her lips from flicking up in a smile.

"It took my mind off the fact that my family is so far gone that not even our closest ally wants to help us," he spat.

"Is there a reason why you didn't heal yourself?"

"_Episkey_ makes me nauseous."

She nodded in understanding, and made her way to the kitchen without further comment. She returned a few moments later with a shallow basin filled with a honey-colored liquid. She gently picked up his hand and placed it in the bowl, rubbing gentle circles around his knuckles until the scrapes and blood disappeared. Draco stretched out his fingers without pain, and she lightly returned his hand to him.

"We're ruined," he stated, staring determinedly at the tablecloth. "It's over. My family is completely finished."

"That doesn't have to be true," she replied softly, kneeling next to him as she continued to inspect the success of her potion on his injured hand.

"Of course it does," he laughed bitterly. "From now on the Malfoy name will forever be a pathetic joke in all companies. Merlin, I wish I were never born."

Astoria was quiet for a moment as she gingerly stroked his fingers. A shiver fell down his spine at the light contact and he slowly withdrew his hand from her. He was worthless, and couldn't take her touches of pity or remorse. It would be over between the two of them soon enough. She needed and deserved a man who could take care of things, who could actually do something with his life. Her feeling sorry for him would quickly morph into disgust and she would want nothing to do with him. Everything in his life had been tied to Miller helping them out, and now all he had left to do was watch what little niche he had made for himself fall apart and disappear.

"Have you ever noticed that, as a noun, the word 'cavalier' means a gallant gentleman, while when used as a context of a verb it means arrogant and disrespectful?" she asked offhandedly.

"What?" he exclaimed lightly, shaking his head in confusion. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Cavalier is a word that can be used to mean two completely different things depending on the way you choose to use it," she explained. "The same goes with being a Malfoy. You can't change the fact that you are one, but you still have the chance to change what being a Malfoy means."

"And how am I supposed to do that?" he demanded, exhaling in irritation and unable to bring himself to look at her.

"Draco, you're twenty years old. You're extremely intelligent, resourceful and hardwired for survival. There's a way out there for you, you just have to stop being sorry for yourself and actually _do _something."

"You don't think I know that?" he grumbled.

"I don't think you do," she replied lightly, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. His eyes flashed in anger at the unwanted touch but immediately softened. He stared at her, still kneeling by his side, inexplicably routing for him when he knew all was lost. Yet something about her confidence made him feel a flicker of hope. Things would never be like they were, like they could have been, but that didn't necessarily condemn him to the gutter. Even if things had stayed the same, if he had grown into the Malfoy he thought he would become five years ago, he wouldn't be sitting there in Astoria's flat with her outstretched hand slowly stroking his face. He wouldn't feel the startlingly strong sense of comfort and support he got from her; in fact he probably would never have bothered getting to know her at all.

That, in its self, at least made something about his fall from grace worthwhile.

"Come here," he commanded, taking her hand and pulling her forward. She climbed gracefully into his lap, straddling him as she continued to stroke his face. He heard her laugh softly as he began to kiss her chest, nipping playfully at her collarbone as he started sliding the straps of her nightgown off her shoulders.

"I'm going to think of something, I promise," he whispered, nuzzling her ear. "I'm going to do something that makes you proud of me."

"I'm already proud of you," she whispered back, her voice straining slightly at the admission.

"But tonight I'm gonna fuck you," he continued, sliding his hands up her thighs. She shifted into him, moaning lightly as she began to kiss his neck.

"After, of course," he said in his normal, non-bedroom voice, "I finish eating this meal you cooked for me."

His hands immediately withdrew from her legs and switched to grabbing his knife and fork. She pulled away from him and stared in disbelief as he popped the first bite of roast into his mouth.

"You swine!" she yelled, smacking him in the side of the head as she climbed off of him.

"I'm hungry," he countered with a full mouth. "It's been a rough day. Besides, it would be rude of me not to eat the meal you cooked for me."

"You're such a fucking gentleman," she spat sarcastically, marching into her bedroom. She slammed her door and almost screamed in frustration. She then gasped in surprise when she felt his arms around her again, having Apperated from her kitchen.

"Just think of me as a cavalier cavalier," he muttered into her ear as his hands fell down her body.

"You're going to be a fucking dead man! I'm never cooking for you again!" she exclaimed, struggling against his embrace.

"It is just way too much fun to piss you off," he explained, keeping her restrained in his arms as he continued to kiss her neck. "Besides, it was getting a bit too emotional for us. If I didn't start eating I might have said something embarrassing, like how good you make me feel, how much I need you, or how you're the best thing in my life."

Astoria stopped squirming as she let his words wash over her, and she allowed him to continue to spill his hands down her sides.

"That would have been embarrassing," she agreed. "Although I guess it's not a far stretch to say I'm the best thing in your life, seeing as how shitty it is."

"I love how you always know just what to say, darling," he bantered, tugging her inky black hair as his other hand pushed down her nighty.

"Though I guess one could hardly say my life is any better," she continued contemplatively, continuing the flow of conversation even as he scooped her up and laid her on the bed. "It would be certainly easy to say you aren't one of the _worst_ aspects of my life."

"Stop it," he replied as he started placing kisses down her stomach. "You know I can't stand it when you turn all gushy and romantic on me."

Astoria couldn't help but laughed, and she brushed the hair away from his face lovingly as he smiled up at her.

"Now, shut up and try to win yourself another roast dinner," she commanded, laying on her back and grinning in excitement as she felt his lips trail further down her body.

* * *

Astoria sighed as she walked with the book return cart, waving her wand without thought to place the volumes on their proper shelves. It had been a long day at work already and the shift was only half way over. Neil had been strange ever since the New Year's Eve incident. He no longer tried to hit on her but acted like he, she and Draco were all friends and insisted on trying to talk to her. She almost welcomed come-ons as they were easier to deflect, and now she had to suffer two coworkers who were eager to be her mates.

She shook her head as she cursed her luck and rounded the corner to put up the last of her books. She let out a gasp when she stepped into the next aisle as she recognized the tall, blonde haired figure that stood in front of her. It had always amazed her at how much Draco and his father looked alike, and yet Lucius Malfoy's face did not spark any feelings of enjoyment and affection like Draco's did. Far from it.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" she demanded, placing her hands on her hips.

"Still charming as ever, I see" Lucius replied icily. "Good to know that fucking my son hasn't made you turn sour."

"If you're here about Draco and me, then…"

"Of course I'm here because of you and Draco," Lucius interrupted. "Why else would I bother to come here?"

"I'm not leaving him, and you're wasting your breath even trying," she stated firmly, glaring at him with hatred.

"My dear sweet girl, whatever gave you such an impression?" he asked, a cold smile filling his face. "I simply came here to extend an invitation for you to join us for dinner tonight."

"Right, and I'll believe that as soon as skrewts become the next lapdogs," Astoria scoffed.

"It's true," Lucius pressed, taking a few steps forward before he was uncomfortably close. "Draco seems…keen on your continued presence in his life. And if you really cared about him you'd know how important his family is, how much his _mother_ means to him. I figured you'd jump at the chance to smooth things over, and who knows, maybe become part of the family yourself?"

Astoria stared at him intently. She was not afraid of Lucius Malfoy, nor was she an idiot. He was playing at something, and this invite dinner was obviously a manipulative ruse for something. She did, however, worry about Draco. She knew hell would break loose when his parents finally found out. She was certain Lucius would stop at nothing to drag them apart, especially now that Rhett Miller refused to assist them and he felt as though he had nothing left. He would keep trying to wedge himself between the two of them, intent on breaking them apart.

Astoria was determined not to let that happen. She would stand strong and fight for Draco as hard as she had to, and she would not let Lucius get an upper hand or think for a moment that she was weak and easily picked off.

"You know what, Lucius, that sounds wonderful," she replied, smirking at the way his face contorted at the familiarity. "I would be happy to come to dinner tonight. I'll tell Draco right away."

"Unfortunately that will not be possible, as Draco is spending the day with his mother and cannot be reached."

Astoria grinned. Lucius didn't want them talking beforehand, wanting to insure their division before his conquer.

"Well, then I guess I'll just see you tonight after I get off. See you later, Lucius."

She pushed past him confidently, determined not to let him see anything but a strong resolve in her. He would not push her away from Draco. They were strong enough to overcome whatever Lucius threw at them.

As she stopped at her last case of books she exhaled rapidly, hoping more than ever that she was right.


	19. The Proud and The Prejudice

The Proud and the Prejudice

**(****A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update. I couldn't figure out how I wanted to write this chapter and I only got inspired within the last couple of days. Hopefully it will be worth some of the wait.)**

"You did what?" Narcissa cried, staring at her husband in disbelief.

"I invited Draco's mix blooded little slag over for dinner," Lucius reiterated as he doffed his daily robes for his evening jacket.

"Why on earth would you do that?" she asked, sitting on their bed in a state of shock.

"To put an end to our son's delusions and get him to drop that wretched thing," he stated, clearing the creases out of his clothes as he stood in front of the grand mirror. "Honestly you should hear the insolence that abdominal creature spews. I have no idea what possessed him to find such a person so charming."

Lucius finally turned to face his wife, her usually flawless porcelain skin riddled with worry and pale as death. He immediately strode over to their bed, swiftly taking her cold hands between his own.

"My darling, whatever is the matter?" he inquired, rubbing her palms tenderly to induce some warmth.

"I just don't think this is such a good idea," she answered meekly, looking off to the side.

"Why? You want him to continue to see that wicked harpy?" Lucius demanded.

"Of course not," she responded firmly, finally taking her husband's gaze. "It's just that confronting them like this…it's just going to drive them closer together, and our son further away."

"Have more faith in me than that, my love," Lucius replied, running his fingers through her long silken hair. "I have no intentions of attacking the girl. We'll all just have a nice civil chat about the whole situation. Just follow my lead like you have done so loyally, so beautifully for the past twenty-five years, and I promise you all will be as it should."

As confident as her husband sounded, Narcissa could not be so surely roused by his speech as she knew he wished her to be. Lately every decision her husband had made seemed to be placing them in more dire circumstances. But Lucius soon took her in his arms, and she felt a rush of love and passion flow through her as her head instinctively burrowed into his neck. When he held her like that she knew she could not deny him anything, nor had she even been able to do so.

"I love you, my darling," Lucius whispered into her ear, causing shivers to spill down her spine.

"And I love you, dear," she responded heartfully, pulling away to stare into his mesmerizing grey eyes. He smiled at her warmly, stroking her cheek in affection before pulling her into a loving kiss.

"Everything will be fine, I promise you," Lucius assured, patting her hand after they broke apart. "Now, finish getting ready. Our guest will be here soon and we will need to great her properly."

* * *

Narcissa couldn't help but glare as she stared at the slim young woman who sat in a calm defiance in her Drawing Room. She hadn't seen the girl since the Flints' baby shower, and even then she hadn't given her a thorough appraisal. She was strange looking upon first sight, with her square jaw making her face intimidatingly strong, and there was something about the sallow color of her skin that made her popping green eyes all the more intense. It took one awhile to stare at the features to finally contend that she was unequivocally beautiful, but there was something more to the girl's appearance that was placing her off guard.

Though not the beady black she had grown accustomed to, the stare the girl returned to her was unmistakable. Narcissa felt the same unsure and hesitant feeling she always received when talking to Severus Snape. The girl was so clearly his daughter, and she had mastered the same highly intelligent, confident airs of her father.

Astoria had acted calmly upon being invited into the Manor, gracefully even. When Narcissa motioned for her to serve them tea as decorum dictated the girl had seemed slightly surprised, as though she had never thought she'd actually be expected to adhere to such social traditions. However her shock lasted only a moment, and the girl diligently and efficiently poured them the beverage and set the dishes out accordingly. She certainly knew the rules of the game, and was a very apt player. Under different circumstances Narcissa couldn't help but think she would be glad to have such a girl presented to her as her son's interest.

But things were not different, and the girl who sat so surely in front of her was ripping apart what little shred of family bond continued to hold the Malfoys together. With her young body, enchanting face, confident demeanor and sharp wit it was no wonder Draco had become so enamored. Regardless of what Lucius had said about her charms Narcissa felt she knew exactly why her son wanted to keep this girl despite her Blood Status. She was a perpetual but rewarding challenge for him, and it was obvious that his desire for her had spurned his recent acts of independence and defiance towards his father. Once again she couldn't help but think that Astoria was the type of girl a mother always hoped would come along to balance out her troubled son, one that would get him to want to put his life in order.

Yet she also knew what Astoria's continued presence in his life would bring about, and no matter what strengths Draco might gain from her Narcissa was not about to let the girl continue.

"I will not let you take him away from us," Narcissa hissed, finally breaking the stony silence.

"I'm not the one who is trying to keep Draco away from someone," she replied coolly, as if she had been waiting for such an outburst. "I don't care if he stays with his family or not."

"You don't _care_?" Narcissa cried, staring at her intensely. "Then you really are an undeserving brat. You claim to fight for my son, yet you disregard all of what we as a family have gone through. It is only because of our connection that we've survived, only because of our love that there is a Draco to fight over, and yet this means nothing to you?"

"I never said that," Astoria replied defensively, a visible ripple shaking her cool exterior. "I only meant that the archaic and misguided notions you and your husband have of me won't deter me from wanting to be with him."

"You knowingly rip this family apart for your own selfish wants!" Narcissa accused, becoming so enraged she actually rose to her feet. The girl appeared momentarily astounded at the claim, but Narcissa was certain her stun would not last for long and that their sparing would continue. She quickly took her place back on the couch primly, struggling against the tears that were soon to fall. The Greengrass girl had proven herself to be very skilled at confrontation, and she knew she was no match for her. But Narcissa was desperate not to lose her son, and she instead reverted to an act she never thought she would willingly practice towards such a lowly person.

She pleaded.

"Tell me," Narcissa asked, her voice shaking desperately as she poised her question. "Why is it that you say you hate our Pureblood traditions, yet you continue to live publicly as if you are one of us?"

The stern look upon Astoria's face quickly faded into a reflective surprise, clearly caught off guard by the question.

"It's because of your parents, Helios and Phoebe, isn't it?" Narcissa pressed. "Despite all that you have gone through, despite the pains and humiliations you have suffered because of our kind, the natural love and ingrained respect for your parents that you were raised with stops you from completely abandoning and disgracing them. I can only imagine how lonely and painful your life must have been growing up around such prejudice company as ours, demeaning and ridiculing you for something you had nothing to do with. And for that I am truly sorry, and I honestly understand why you're fighting so hard to keep the probably only person you've ever had a deep connection with. But tell me, how can you ask someone you care so much for…someone you may even love, to forgo his family for you when you can't even do it for yourself? You must know that the only way for you to win is for Draco to lose his family. Can you rightly and honestly ask that of him? And do you believe he could fully give it up for you?"

Narcissa felt no true pleasure at the crushing expression that filled the pretty face in front of her as she finished her question. For the first time Narcissa saw Astoria for the vulnerable, scared little girl that hides inside all women. She had quickly and thoroughly cut straight into the heart of the matter, and Astoria's continued silence shouted volumes at how deeply she had been shaken.

And though Narcissa felt intrinsically dirty for her low-blow method, she also harbored no remorse. Keeping her family safe and together was her primary and treasured purpose upon this earth, and she would be damned if she let some spoiled Unpure brat with enchanting eyes take her only son away from her.

"YOU DID WHAT?" a loud voice reverberated throughout the Manor. Startled, both women winced at the noise and instinctively stared at the closed door. In a matter of moments it was all but kicked through, a distressed and irate Draco swiftly entering the room.

"Astoria! What are you doing here?" Draco exclaimed, rushing straight to her side without bothering to spare a glance elsewhere.

"I…err…" the girl struggled nonsensically, clearly still shaken from her previous conversation.

"What have you done to her?" Draco snapped, rounding fiercely to him mother. Narcissa gasped, and though his eyes quickly softened the mother would never forget the cold and loathing look of hatred he had sent her way.

"Your mother has done nothing, and you will remember yourself while you are in this house," Lucius demanded, finally taking presence in the chaos.

"Come on, Astoria," Draco urged, grabbing her hand and pulling her off the couch. "Let's get out of here."

"Leaving so soon?" Lucius called out, smirking candidly. "I just assumed that if you cared so much for this girl that you would intend to present her to your family."

"Just as I assume to know what _your_ intentions for this meeting are," Draco snapped back loudly.

"Do not yell, you'll upset your mother," Lucius replied calmly. Narcissa's gaze quickly snapped towards her husband. It was a rather overprotective comment about her nerves and it was hardly necessary to say out loud.

"Draco," Astoria said swiftly, softly placing a hand on his tensed arm. "It's alright."

"Alright? Astoria, do you have any idea what is happening? What they're trying to do?" he asked incredulously.

"They're your parents," she replied simply, struggling with a believable smile. "I don't want to cause any fighting."

Narcissa swore she saw those magnificent green eyes flash her direction before the girl began gently urging for her son to take her to the dining room. The whole situation had her completely taken aback. Ever since she had heard about Astoria's arrival Narcissa had been certain the night would be nothing but malicious confrontation. She had expected that the girl would act like the rude, swaggering, unforgiving creature she had always been portrayed as. That she would claim Draco as hers and demand that he choose.

Yet it appeared that some of her words had stuck to the girl. Instead of making a violent scene she seemed to be trying to diplomatically get through the night. Narcissa was instantly filled with guilt at the thought, and she wished now more than ever that her husband hadn't gotten the girl to come. A rude, abrasive bitch Narcissa was ready to handle. A beautiful young woman who seemed to be pushing aside her own nature for Draco's sake, for his family's sake…

Lucius Malfoy however had no such qualms about the girl's sudden change in heart and he happily took his wife's troubled hand, silently praising her for her job well done.

* * *

Astoria had begun to lose count of the times in recent history where she sat in a highly awkward situation due to her lack of sensibility. She had instantly viewed Lucius' offer to dinner as a challenge and brazenly accepted it with little thought, prepared to stand proud and proclaim that as long as Draco wanted her she wasn't going anywhere. She was not afraid of Lucius, in fact for months she had been itching to fight with him, hoping to inflict some of the pain the father placed upon his son.

However she had never anticipated Narcissa. It was something easily done, for Mrs. Malfoy often blended into the background unless her loved ones were in danger. The more Astoria thought about it though, the more foolish she was not to think about the woman. She had proven time and time again that she was willing to risk her life for her family, why wouldn't she stand up to an intruder such as herself?

And her words…even Astoria was surprised with how deeply they had affected her. The point that she had brought up about her own parents resonated in her ears. She was actively and openly defiant against her parents, and yet she never once entertained the idea of ultimately defaming them by publicly shedding light on her true paternity. Despite Helios not being her biological father he was still the dominate male figure in her life. She was unsure if he knew the truth or not, but their perfunctorily father/daughter relationship meant enough to her to never to test his knowledge. And as insufferable and suffocating as her mother was, the idea of exposing to the world her infidelity simply to punish her made her feel…shameful.

How on earth then could she expect Draco to forsake his family? He boasted a much deeper connection with his parents than she ever claimed to have. And though he and his father were undoubtedly at ends, Draco's love for his mother was uncontestable. He had told her once that it was only through his mother's care that he had gotten through his house arrest, and she knew the high regard in which he held her. It was an esteem that she had never intended to pollute, and now as she sat quietly as the Malfoys all stared at one another, she wished for the first time in her life that she had either been born as a Pureblood or at least inherited some tact.

For she had no idea how to handle this situation, and delicacy had never been one of her strong points. Although Draco had so far only expressed his anger towards his parents, she knew he had to be angry at her for coming. He had ardently placated her fears of her Blood Status when they started dating, expressing that he would not allow it to be a terminating issue. He had so far managed to avoid any problems, but Astoria had allowed herself to be manipulated by Lucius and her own brazen foolishness, and now Draco had no choice but to confront the matter.

Astoria felt her heart begin to crush as she realized how close she was to loosing Draco at that very moment. There was no question that Lucius would never allow his son to be with a girl with Muggle blood coursing through her veins. It was an unchanging fact that could not be argued away. And even if Draco no longer seemed to care about his ancient family traditions, he still cared immensely for his family itself. There was no separating their stance on keeping their blood line Pure, and despite any of the complexities of the situation it all eventually boiled down to one simple choice: his parents or her.

It took all of her years of projected strength and inherent apathy to keep from crying at the realization. For even if Draco did pick her he would forever begrudge her for losing his parents. Narcissa was right, she could not ask that of him. Despite how much she cared for him she knew it wasn't her place. This family loved each other. His mother _needed_ him. After all they had been through how could she be the thing that tore them apart?

"Everyone's so quiet," Lucius stated drolly. "Especially you, Miss Greengrass. I've never known you to be in want of something to say."

Astoria started chewing on her lip to keep from commentating. He was trying to rouse her, trying to get her to make a scene in front of Draco to show him how horrible she would be to his parents. She was determined to not let that happen. If she could somehow make it through the dinner without there being an upset, without there being a moment where Draco had to decide, then together they could talk about the situation, maybe find some kind of answer. She would not be the one that forced him away from his family and she certainly wouldn't be tricked into appearing that way.

"You know I am surprised that it has taken you this long to join us, Miss Greengrass," Lucius continued, undeterred by her continued silence. "It has been my understanding that you and Draco have been an item for quite some time."

"Father," Draco barked warningly, sensing the signs of trouble.

"I'm just curious," Lucius replied back. "In fact, my dear son, I am rather disappointed in you. It seems you have gone through great lengths to hide your little friend from us. We only even discovered the depth of your affections towards the young lady from her cousin, Miss Parkinson. That must bother your love greatly that you put so much effort in concealing your relationship from your own parents. It's almost as if you are ashamed of her."

"There isn't a single thing about Astoria that I'm ashamed of," Draco retorted strongly. "It's my family I have a problem with."

"I see, so it is us that are not good enough for Miss Greengrass? We, your parents, your own flesh and blood? We who've raised you, loved you, given everything for you? We who have risked our lives to keep you safe are worth less to you than some harlot charlatan? You would really toss us aside so quickly when now we need you more than ever? You would do that to your own mother after all she has done for you? Well, Miss Greengrass must be very special indeed."

The room was filled with a deafening silence after Lucius' speech. The anger in Draco's eyes was clear, yet it was from more than just rage that he trembled. There was an unmistakable look of pain and confusion splashed across his face. You could almost feel him being torn apart by his dual loyalties, and his father's strong words seemed to have crushed him beyond response.

"You really are a cowardly bastard, Lucius Malfoy," Astoria demeaned with a shaking voice.

"You dare speak to me that way in my own home?" Lucius demanded, switching his attention to the girl nastily.

"Only when you dare speak to your own son in such a way," she replied, glowering at him intently.

"You insolent little brat," Lucius hissed, instantly losing his perfected cool over her insults. "I have a good mind to banish you from my grounds forever."

"I can't believe it," she stated with a breaking laugh, shaking her head as she pushed herself back from the table. "I can't believe that for a few minutes there I actually pitied you, that I actually viewed myself as the problem, as a home-wrecker. But the only home-wrecker here is you, Lucius."

"Get out of my house!" he demanded, pointing his wand at her viciously.

"Everything that is wrong in your life is your own damn fault," she continued, refusing to flinch at his sign of aggression. "You're the one who chose the wrong side, you're the one who continues to lose all of his money, and you're the one who is pushing his son away. I may be a bastard, a bitch, a whore and a mistake, but I refuse to sit by and hear you talk to Draco that way and make him feel like caring for me is killing you. And it's possible that me being here and saying all of these things has caused me to lose Draco forever, but trust me if you keep acting the way you do you aren't very far behind me."

"I should kill you for disrespecting my family like this," Lucius cried menacingly. "Your impertinence will not go unpunished."

"Father, no!" Draco shouted clearly, pushing his chair back as he stood between Lucius' outstretched wand and its target. He turned to face Astoria, looking her intently in the eye. Astoria's crushing fear returned as he stared at her emotionlessly, his lips pressed thin as he confronted her. The thought of losing him after finally finding someone who understood her and made her push past her own insecurities almost caused her to collapse. Her eyes welled with tears as she realized her worst nightmare had come to fruition because once again she couldn't just keep her own mouth shut. She tried not to blink as she knew it would release the tears down her cheeks, and she called on all the power and magic she possessed as Draco passed sentence on her.

Suddenly the cold sensation that froze her veins instantly morphed into warmth. Draco lifted his hand to stroke her face, pulling her towards him as he swept her up into a kiss. Astoria no longer cared if her tears fell in front of others, in front of her enemies, as long as he kept kissing her. She gasped and pulled him in closer, dying to be reassured that he was still there with her, that she hadn't ruined everything that night by choosing to come. That despite such important objections he still remained the person most dear to her.

She smiled as he pulled away, still wrapped up in her enlightenment. He too smiled in return, but his eyes held a forewarning sign of sadness. He stroked her face softly and held his hand on her cheek, causing Astoria to feel an ominous plight of finality.

"You should go," he stated firmly though without edge. Astoria's mouth dropped at the comment and she stared at him in disbelief. He immediately averted his gaze to the side. His stance was ridged, sure, and he had long sense pulled his hand away from her face. Hardly able to comprehend all that had just happened, Astoria did the only thing she could. She pulled away, and quietly walked out of the manor before her feet gave out from under her.

* * *

Astoria stared helplessly at her bare feet as she sat in a ball on her couch, an unopened bottle of Firewhiskey her only companion. She felt beyond tears, remaining completely still for fear of shattering if she dared to move.

It hurt worse than she ever thought possible. Losing Draco in such a way caused her to feel like her insides were being scraped out. This had been her nightmare from the start, and now she could only be dimly grateful that the intense pain she felt hadn't physically killed her.

It was over, Lucius had won. Despite what Draco had said it was her distant Muggle blood that had torn them apart. And yet she could not bring it upon herself to fault him. If anyone were to blame it was herself. She had known all along that this was an unsolvable problem, yet she continued the relationship anyways. Draco had his whole family to think of, his burden of being a Pureblood heir and his terrible past that bound him to his place. These were other truths that were unalterable, and no matter how they felt for each other it was simply not meant to be.

Finally Astoria found some strength to pry herself off the couch, and her feet carried her over to the fireplace. There she was faced with the vertical gash inflicted by the knife Draco had thrown against her wall. As she touched it gingerly she was reminded of that night, of how he had brazenly saved her from herself and how he had shown her both how fierce and tender he could be. Thoughts of their Christmas Eve together when he first suggested their dating, how they had spent the night shagging and talking on her couch until the sun rose all were fronted to her mind.

A small smile filled her face as she turned away. She regretted nothing. Not a moment of it.

She started towards her bedroom, feeling her returned strength would get her into bed safely, when suddenly she felt her tears attack once more. She clutched her chest as she began to sob without control, the pain returning as she once again felt like nothing could move her safely from that spot. Not even the initial roar of her fire place as flames burst out of seeming oblivion, and her whole living room began to glow a warm emerald green.

It was only when she heard a scrape and two boots firmly placing themselves on the ground that she dare turn around. The vision she saw through her tear blurred eyes caused her mouth to drop, and she could scarcely believe it to be true until she felt the hand reach out and pull her to her feet.

"I need a place to stay," Draco said simply, his face set in an emotionless expression. It was only then that she looked to his side to see his school trunk packed with him.

"What happened?" she asked breathlessly, still taken aback by the whole scene.

"I am no longer welcomed in my father's house," he replied, pushing past her as he wheeled his trunk into her room.

"He kicked you out?" she inquired, following him down the hallway helplessly.

"He kicked me out, I walked out, it was a bit mutual I expect," he explained stoically, waving his wand over his possessions. The drawers to her bureau immediately opened and she watched for a moment as her clothes were refolded and slid aside, making room for him to lay his own.

"Draco I am so sorry!" she all but shouted, desperate for him to look at her. "I never meant for any of this to happen! I didn't want you to have to leave your family…"

Astoria was cut off from her apology as she realized Draco was laughing. To her surprise he had responded to her remorse, not with anger, but with a playful smirk.

"Narcissistic much?" he asked, dumping his black socks into her top drawer as his trousers hung themselves up in her closet. "You know, not everything has _everything_ to do with you."

"You sadistic son of a bitch!" she yelled, her lachrymose persona instantly fueled by intense anger. "Do you have any idea what I have gone through tonight? I get attacked by both your parents and felt like I was about to die because I thought I'd lost you. And now you have the gall to waltz in here, move in without even ask me, and treat me like a…"

"Thank you," he interrupted, grabbing her arms softly to pull her towards him. "I can't talk to you when you're so upset, especially when it is I who has made you cry."

Astoria ceased her desire to shout and cry and simply stared at him. It finally hit her that he was there, with her, that he had chosen her over everything that had happened, and now needed to explain himself. Inwardly she was so filled with joy she could hardly contain herself. Yet, on the surface, she was still extremely pissed over his unapologetic entrance. So she did the only thing and self-respecting person with two minds would do: she stomped on his foot, and sat patiently on her bed for him to talk to her.

And, after wincing in pain, he did.

"You were right," he said simply, taking his place beside her. "The way my father had been acting, the way he had been treating me, it's been pushing me away for ages. And even though my mother is not nearly as ruthless she really is no better. I can never be the man I want to be if I stay there, can never achieve the things I want because they continue to hold me back. And you…you're the only person in my life who actually wants me to do what I want to do. How am I supposed to give that up?"

"Still, I know I just exasperated the whole situation. I shouldn't have come, let alone said all those things…"

"Astoria, you just very ruthlessly and unabashedly proclaimed what kind of person you are for my parents and me to hear. As always your completely unforgiving stance of who you are has inspired me. Don't you dare go and try to apologize for yourself now."

Astoria felt a wave of affection and bonding crash through her at the statement, and she quickly and finally wrapped her arms around his neck to embrace his return. Draco swiftly pulled her into his lap and hugged her tighter, running his hands up into her hair to stroke her black locks.

"You can put the rest of your stuff into my closet," she allotted softly. "But I don't think the bounds of magic can be stretched farther for there to fit anymore shoes."

Draco laughed heartily as he pulled her into a kiss, throwing them down upon the bed to cement their reunion.

* * *

"Draco?" Astoria asked softly an hour later as they lay spent upon her bed…their bed. "What are you going to do now? I mean I fully support you, but I can't actually fully support you, financially."

"And I would never ask you to," he replied, kissing her temple before untangling himself from their sheets.

"I have a little money of my own, tucked away in an account my father can't touch," he told as he began to riffle from his half unpacked trunk. "And there is this."

He handed her an open envelope that had once been sealed with a cattleman's brand.

"Miller gave this to be before he left, but I have only recently looked at it," Draco explained, watching her with a soft grin.

"This looks like a credit statement," she said out loud. "It says a line of credit will be given to you for…WHOA!"

"Whoa indeed," Draco smirked, finding amusement out of her reaction.

"Draco, that's a lot of money!" she exclaimed, staring at the number in near disbelief. "Only…well, it's not really enough to live off on indefinitely, is it? Unless you plan on living like a Weasley."

"Which I do not," he scoffed indignantly, grabbing the letter out of her hand and placing it gently back in his trunk. "I intend to invest it."

"Invest it? In what?" Astoria inquired, never having heard this plan from him before.

"Not in what, in who," he corrected, placing in her hand an old beat up wallet. Astoria opened the billfold gently and stared at the identification card in disbelief.

"Buford Wilkinson? A Muggle?" she asked, flabbergasted at the idea.

"Muggleborn, but trust me the irony has not escaped me," he assured fitfully, taking the scrap of leather from her and tossing it on the nightstand. "But desperate times…"

Astoria stared at him, soaking up this new version of Draco Malfoy she doubted anyone else knew. In a short amount of time he had seemingly ceased to care about his own Purity, abandoned his parents' grip and resigned to the fact that his circumstances required the help of a Muggleborn. Just the fact that he had said "Muggleborn" instead of "Mudblood" seemed to shout volumes about his growth.

"I can't believe that you and I are actually here," she admitted in serene amazement. "Did you ever think that we'd end up together like this?"

Draco remained quiet for a few moments as he seemed to struggle to collect his thoughts. Astoria waited patiently for him to finally speak, and when he did he did so with an intense vulnerability.

"Astoria, it's difficult for me to really talk about how I feel about things, about people. There are…words that I don't really say. But just because I can't say them doesn't mean…I mean, you understand what I'm getting at, right?"

"Yeah," she replied, smiling softly. "Me too."


	20. Through Another's Eyes

**_(A/N: Sorry as always for the delay in updates for all my stories. I've had some wonderful but time consuming life changes recently which have given me less time and energy to write. However I continue to diligently type along and have finally figured out exactly how the story will go until the end, which has been very inspiring. That and going to the midnight premier of DH, which always gets one Pottered up. Happy Thanksgiving to my State's mates, and I hope y'all enjoy another looooong chapter :) ) _**

Through Another's Eyes

Terror and panic coursed through Draco's body as he ran from the looming Astronomy Tower. The words of a dead man had penetrated his very soul, causing him to shake even as he was pulled through the chaotic grounds. The old man's face had gone as white as his name after he had been struck with that blinding green light. Even in those horrific moments Draco could clearly see the pale color of death that had taken hold of Dumbledore's skin, a color that he had only ever seen on…

He didn't dare make a noise as he was approached by him. He had waited for this moment for lifetime. He had craved for this chance, this _honor_. He was ready to become and to be treated like a man. However as the ghastly figure approached him and commanded him to hold out his arm, all he wanted to do was run into the comforting hold of his mother. Still, gut wrenching fear kept him transfixed to the spot as those long spidery fingers firmly grabbed his forearm. Draco had never been this close to him before, had never been able to see into the snakely slit eyes of his master. Those eyes were sparked with a cold and humorless laugh and it took all of his strength to keep from passing out from fear. All of his strength…and the still present pride that filled him as he too was a Chosen One…

His Dark Mark and temper burned as the man grabbed his arm, shaking him and scolding him like a child in the school corridor. Though Draco had once actively sought out his approval, now he saw him as nothing but a nuisance. He obviously wanted Draco's glory for himself. He was washed up, no longer favored, no longer necessary for their master's plan, and was trying to get in good. None of the warnings he gave were worth listening to. None of his advice or offers of help were anything but a selfish ruse. Draco would not be spoken to in such a condescending manner and he was more than prepared to tell him such. The way those intense black eyes stared at him, how that strong square jaw clenched after he spoke, and his inflection that held the perfect tone of self-righteousness as it rang across the corridor all infuriated Draco to no end.

Draco opened his mouth to tell him off completely, when suddenly he could no longer easily breathe. Though he was clearly on land he felt as though he were drowning. He felt himself being smothered by a far way yet familiar material, smelling oddly like his own sweat and the musk of days' old laundry…

Draco gasped out of his sleep as he threw the piles of clothes that had been dumped on him off to the floor. Enraged, he hopped up and sought out his attacker. When they came into focus Draco gasped again. For a brief moment he swore he saw Severus Snape standing before him, seething in anger as if the dream had never ended. But as reality and consciousness hit him he watched the angry figure shrink, and though the infuriated look never altered, the gender, the nose and the eye color of the assailant did.

"What the fuck, Astoria?" Draco demanded, finding this version hardly any better. "Have you lost your bloody mind?"

"I must have!" she shouted back. "Because I could have sworn I told you a dozen times not to leave your dirty clothes in piles on the floor!"

Draco felt his eyes nearly pop out of his head as he realized he had been violently shaken out of his sleep over chores.

"You have got to be kidding me!" he yelled. "Do you have any idea how important of a morning this is for me? Everything I've been working towards for the past two weeks has been leading up to this, and you go and start my day off with you throwing a bitch fit?"

"I've been telling you for those two weeks to pick up after yourself!" she countered. "I'm tired of tripping over your trousers and finding your half-finished tea cups hidden all over the flat."

"Well if it bothers you so much why don't you just clean it up?" he muttered, pushing past her and walking into the kitchen.

"Because I'm not your fucking house elf!" she all but screamed, causing Draco's already aching head to pound. "I've already done a lot for you: letting you stay, cooking you meals, helping you go through all your finance options, all the while holding up my _own_ job, working on my potion, and I have been the only one cleaning up around here…"

"Yeah? And I left my parents and a whole life for you!" he shouted back, anger and annoyance filling his mind. "I know you're not a _real_ Pureblood so you can't really appreciate that, but I was at least expecting some kind of support from you. At the very least I figured I was safe from being smothered by my own clothing."

"You son of a bitch!" she shrieked. "How dare you…you…ARGH!"

Astoria stomped her foot, turning quickly on the spot as she marched over to the kitchen table to grab her coat and scarf.

"What are you doing?" Draco demanded, folding his arms across his chest.

"Leaving before I do something that gets me incarcerated," she replied through gritted teeth.

"That's it? You're just going to leave?" he inquired with a menacing laugh, chasing after her as she tried to walk away with a forced calm. "What about our conversation? What about my big day?"

Astoria continued to ignore him as she headed for the door.

"What about my breakfast?" he demanded. She stopped suddenly, hand poised on the door knob. Draco felt a sudden inking that he had crossed a line an instant before she turned around. She marched into the kitchen, her heels making ominous clicks on the hardwood floor as she made her way to the refrigerator.

"Here!" she shouted, grabbing a handful of eggs off the shelf. "Here is what you fucking do for breakfast!"

Draco shuffled back quickly as she started pelting him with the orbs mercilessly.

"Take an egg and fucking make it yourself!" she ordered after she finished unloading her arsenal. She then marched back towards the door before Draco could find words for retort.

"Looks like someone forgot to take their bitch potion this morning!" he yelled as she opened and slammed the door. "And I'm not cleaning this up!"

Draco stood quiet for a moment, his feet covered in yolks, waiting to see if the door would reopen and if she would come back for round two. It took a few seconds for him to realize that she wasn't about to come back, and only a few more for him to decide he didn't care. Cursing as he stepped around the broken shells he shuffled his way into the bathroom.

He had thought the hardest part about moving in with her would be the guilt from leaving his parents, from abandoning his family, the decision to start a whole new life from scratch. He had been way off.

It felt like Astoria had done nothing but nag at him since he had started to settle in. Everything had to be clean all of the time. Nothing could be moved out of place. It always seemed like he was doing something to set her off, even when he wasn't trying to. That he had sacrificed his old life to have one where he could be with her seemingly meant nothing. All she cared about was her precious dishes and her stupid floor.

Draco quickly worked to brush his anger off as he stepped into the shower. Today was too important to get flustered over his love life. He needed focus and a cool head for his meeting. He was finally going to meet face to face with Buford Wilkinson after weeks of correspondence. He would be shown the inventions Wilkinson had described in his letters that Draco still couldn't really comprehend, and then together they would hammer out the logistics of getting it sold for a profit. If this was as good of an idea as he thought it was it could be a great starting place for a whole career.

Finally appropriately excited for the day, Draco went to work scrubbing off the bits of egg that still stuck to his leg hair. As he lathered up the liquid soap the shower was immediately filled with the clean leafy scent of Astoria. He always loved the way he could still smell her on him after they were together, and now that he used her soap the fragrance always followed. He also found that his skin no longer dried out in the harsh weather.

A small pang began to burn in the middle of his chest as he slowly replayed their scene from the morning. He had said some things he probably shouldn't have, and others still that he didn't even mean. Despite the hell she put him through he knew deep down he didn't want to be anywhere else…

He shook his head and returned to violently scrubbing his skin. _She was the one being a bitch_ he reminded himself. _She was the one who needed to apologize_. He quickly shut out any feelings of guilt and sought to find something else to occupy his mind.

It was then that his eye was caught by the pulsating shower head, or what Astoria affectionately referred to as "his competition". He scoffed at the idea, and immediately removed it from its stand. He played with the settings and pressed the water up to his hand. The sensation immediately caused a pleasurable tingling sensation that made him jump.

"Dammit," he spat, dropping the head to the floor. "Now I'm really pissed."

* * *

Despite having the street and address of Buford Wilkinson's office memorized Draco quickly dug through his pockets to double check. He had gathered the man was down on hard times from how desperate he had been seeking finance. Draco was also fairly convinced he was an idiot, and that wasn't just because he was a Muggleborn. His letters were always disorganized and hard to follow, with no discernable logic piecing his paragraphs together. Nevertheless he did seem to have some good ideas, and Draco was desperate enough to give him a chance. He had pictured the man working out of some shabby dark office, filled with clutter and half-finished inventions. The given address in his last letter however had not taken him to a shabby office building but to a shabby apartment complex. A shabby _Muggle_ apartment complex.

With no foreseeable alternative Draco gritted his teeth and stepped toward the building. The front door was locked, but that hardly registered as an obstacle for him. He was met with a dingy hall that lead to a darken staircase. He climbed until he reached the third floor and was faced with a scratched up dented door adorned with a shockingly out of place yellow welcome sign. Sensing this was the place Draco held his breath and knocked firmly.

A few moments passed before he heard the turning of a door knob, but he soon grew perplexed as the door only opened a fraction of its way. It appeared to be compromised with some kind of chain, and Draco's immediate instinct was that the door was somehow dangerous, especially as he didn't see anyone behind it. That was until a high pitched voice called out to him and caused his eye line to drop.

"Who is it?" the voice asked, and Draco caught a flash of big blue eyes and curly brown hair.

"Draco Malfoy, I'm here to see Buford Wilkinson," he replied strictly, growing irritated as he felt his time being wasted.

"You have a funny name," the little girl replied simply.

"Does Buford Wilkinson live here or not?" he demanded.

"My mum says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she answered through the crack.

"Tell me, or I swear I'll curse this door right off its hinges!" he threatened, the last of his patience for the day evaporating.

"Mum! There's a mean funny named wizard at the dooooor!" the girl wailed, slamming the door shut and disappearing back inside. Draco cursed, shaking his head in anger as he turned back towards the hallway.

"Mr. Malfoy?" a grown up woman's voice called out moments later, causing him to turn. Draco was faced with a petite blonde woman with pretty blue eyes staring at him hopefully. He looked her over for a moment. She wasn't all that unattractive; a little frazzled but contentedly so. She gave off the sweet vibe of a happy mother and her small frame had no real fat or muscle to speak of. Yet he was strangely afraid of her. She was the first Muggle to ever address him, and he had absolutely no idea how to react.

"You are Mr. Malfoy, aren't you?" she asked again, smiling softly.

"I am," he replied shortly, rooted to the spot.

"Ah, I was afraid so," she laughed warmly. "I'm Abigail Wilkinson, Ford's wife. I'm afraid my husband must have given you our home address instead of his office. Please, come in."

She held the door open and gestured inside. Draco hesitated and walked in despite his better judgment.

Draco had never been inside a Muggle's home before and he entered with extreme caution. He had no idea what he had expected. All he knew about Muggles was that they were lowly, subhuman creatures who needed primitive devices to overcome their magicless handicaps. Perhaps they dwelled in habitats that resembled caves or tree houses, or some other primeval layout that wizards had far surpassed. Whatever it was that he might have imagined Draco was certain that he would never find himself thinking that a Muggle's residence looked remarkably like his own.

Minus the addition of a greenhouse and the fact that this place was littered with children's toys, Draco was shocked at how similar the Wilkinson's flat was in comparison to his and Astoria's home. It too was a place that seemed to house more people than it could hold. Books, parchment, cooking supplies, children's socks, and dozens of other everyday things were crammed into an area no larger the flat above the apothecary. But, just like his place, despite there being so much stuff the room did not look cluttered. In fact it seemed warm and welcoming. There was a definite presence of someone who took great pride in where they lived, and therefore organized and contained their belongings with top-notch abilities.

"I apologize for the mess and miscommunication," Abigail pressed, smiling as she offered him a seat on the couch. "My husband has been talking about this meeting for weeks and has been so enthralled about the whole thing. He even left for his office early."

"I see," Draco replied quietly, eyeing the worn sofa cautiously. He noticed there was an indention at one side, as though it were the usual resting spot of a grown man. Draco couldn't help but think of his own favorite spot on his couch, and how Astoria had once jokingly complained that it was so contorted to his own ass she could no longer sit there comfortably.

"I know my husband seems awfully disorganized, and it would be a lie to say anything to the contrary," she admitted. "But I promise you he really is a genius with some marvelous sounding ideas and inventions."

In normal circumstances Draco would have rolled his eyes and proclaimed to her that he wasn't interested in the biasness of a wife. But he was still reeling in discomfort of how familiar and _normal_ the Wilkinson's flat was that he couldn't respond. That and the fact that was something disturbingly pure at the way the Muggle believed in her husband.

"Anyways I am terribly sorry about the mix up," she continued to press, becoming anxious as Draco remained quiet. "I'll call him right away and get him to come home immediately. Unfortunately our line got disconnected so I'll have to use the payphone across the street. I promise I'll be back in no time."

Draco nodded his head, having no clue of what she meant by "lines" and "pay phones", but catching the drift that she needed to leave to notify her husband.

"Now Natalie, I need you to behave and play good hostess for Mr. Malfoy here, do you understand?" Mrs. Wilkinson inquired, bending down to her young daughter.

"Yes, Mummy," the girl replied good naturedly, smiling brightly.

"Wonderful. I promise I won't be gone but two seconds."

"Wait!" Draco shouted in panic, the situation finally sinking in. But it was too late. Mrs. Wilkinson was out the door, and Draco was left alone in the company of a five year old girl.

If he had been uncomfortable before, it was nothing compared to how he felt as the wide-eyed gaze of that curly haired little mix breed rested on his face. Draco didn't do children. That went doubly so for Muggle girls with traces of maple syrup staining their jumper.

"Are you really a wizard?" she asked bluntly, a slightly demanding tone garnishing her inquiry. Draco couldn't help but cock his eyebrow.

"I am," he replied simply, mentally counting down the seconds until the girl's mother returned.

"My daddy's a wizard," she offered helpfully. "The greatest one there is!"

"I doubt that," he scoffed, turning his head to the side. "He couldn't even get his own address right."

"He is too the greatest!" the girl called Natalie argued.

"Yeah, and how could you possibly know that? How many other wizards have you met?" he asked her, the words slipping out before he realized he was entering a childish debate with an infant.

"Just you," she responded coolly. "But you haven't done any magic. Oh! Could you show me some magic? Please, please, please!"

Draco's face contorted into one of light disgust at how quickly the child jumped from a snotty attitude to excited brat.

"We can't do magic in front of Muggles," he sighed, swearing it had to have been at least three minutes by now.

"But I'm not a Muggle!" the girl contested, jumping up and down proudly. "I'm a witch! And I'm going to go to Hogwarts just like Daddy did!"

"I suppose that is a possibility," he said slowly, wondering what the odds were for the offspring of a Muggle and Muggleborn to have magic.

"So show me!" she squealed, grabbing at Draco's hand and dragging him into the living room. His eyes widened in shock, and a buried part of his brain wanted to knock the child to the ground for such insolence. However no part of him acted on such an impulse, and he simply allowed himself to be placed in front of the couch. She settled on the cushions comfortably, staring at him as if he were some spectacle.

"Well, on with it!" she demanded again.

"No!" he replied firmly.

"Please, please, please, please, please…!"

"Alright! If I show you some magic will you shut up?" he compromised irately.

"You said bad words," she informed, staring at him sternly.

"If I show you magic will you cease to make those noises?" he reframed.

"Yes!" she agreed, smiling in ecstatic victory. Draco shook his head, muttering more bad words under his breath as he cursed his wretched day. He grabbed his wand out of his cloak and waved it over her head. Dozens of perfectly round bubbles appeared and began floating over her. Natalie eyed the spheres for a moment and gave off the appearance of being thoroughly unimpressed.

"I can do that with my own wand," she informed, pointing to a cylindrical bottle labeled "Mr. Bubbles", which apparently came with its own circle ended stick. Draco rolled his eyes, quite ready to just throw the girl out the window, when he was hit with another idea.

Grinning, Draco pointed his wand at her, ready to get a bit of reparation for his wasted time.

"_Levicor_…"

But Draco quit mid incantation as a small but strong part of him stopped himself. As much as he wanted to dangle that for-all-intents-and-purposes Muggle by her ankle he thought better of it. He wasn't a Death Eater anymore. This whole venture was meant to get _away_ from that part of his life. Besides, as obnoxious as the girl had been he knew she didn't deserve such a thing.

"_Wingardium Leviosa," _he incanted, lowering his wand to the sofa cushion she sat upon. The small flat was filled with the sound of uncontrollable giggling as the girl clutched tightly to the flying pillow. Draco carefully but quickly flicked his wand, causing the cushion to dart speedily around the living room. Natalie laughed and cheered, urging him to go faster and to turn quicker. Draco couldn't help but break a smile at the sound.

Certain that this was not the type of thing a Muggle mother wanted to walk into, Draco started moving the girl back over to the couch. He had her all but lined up with the seat when an ear piercing wail filled the air.

"What the fuck is that?" he demanded bristly, heart pounding as the girl laughed at her uncontrolled but safe descend.

"That's my baby brother, Ben," she explained through residual giggles.

"You mean there is another one of you?" he exclaimed in horror. Sure enough as he turned to face the kitchen he noticed a small play pin. Inside, perched precariously on two legs, stood a blonde haired boy who couldn't yet claim the age of one. He continued to cry and howl incessantly as Draco approached him.

"Stop that!" Draco demanded of the child. Benjamin Wilkinson took no heed and continued his protest.

"How do you shut him off?" he asked desperately, turning to his sister.

"By picking him up, of course!" she replied, laughing as she twirled around the living room clutching on to the pillow.

"Right," Draco muttered, afraid that that would be the case. After taking a deep breath Draco shot his hands out and picked up the boy from under his arms, ensuring he kept the thing a full arm's length away. This change in position only seemed to exacerbate the situation, and the crying intensified.

"You need to bring him closer," Natalie instructed as she continued to frolic about.

"I know how to hold a baby!" he spat. "Theoretically," he added in a mutter, having never actually done such a thing. Desperate to get the nose to stop and accepting his role as a hostage babysitter, Draco stared at the baby in his hands firmly.

"You will desist your racket and remain calm until your mother returns, is that clear?" he inquired sternly. The baby continued to wriggle and cry in discomfort. Draco released another sigh of exasperation as his ears were filled with that wretched sound. Shutting his eyes firmly as though bracing himself he pulled his arms closer and placed the baby to his chest.

Ben's wails instantly quieted as he sensed the warm contact of another human being. Draco felt his best business robes being bunched up as the little hand grasped it in comfort. Draco opened his eyes to see the little creature staring up at him with a blend of worry and fascination.

It was then that Draco was hit with a feeling he had never felt before. Something about successfully quieting down the quasi-Muggle child and the way those big blue eyes slowly but surely dried themselves of tears caused a completely foreign kind of glow to resonate deep within his chest. It was strange how naturally the baby settled in his arms. Unsure of what to do next, Draco shifted the baby more comfortably towards his left as his right hand went about unbunching the grip Ben had on his shirt. The child immediately transferred his grasp from the robes over to Draco's index finger, wrapping his entire hand around the digit. The warmth in Draco's chest intensified.

"Very good," Draco commended detachedly, though his voice croaked slightly. Now that he was calmed Draco had every intention of putting the thing down. But something kept him holding on, and Draco couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that the small bundle of life in his arms wasn't much of a lowly sub-human creature, but something...great.

Without realizing it he had begun to smile, and he felt his vocal chords tighten as though to speak to the baby in a calmer, more pleasant inflection than he had been, when suddenly the door to the flat flew open. Abigail had returned, followed by the same shabby looking man that had been tossed out of his house on Christmas Eve. A look of intense apology and worry was struck on Buford's face, though it instantly morphed into shock as he saw his dark-pasted future business partner cradling his distressed son.

Suddenly thoroughly embarrassed at the whole situation, Draco opened his mouth to defend his actions, when Ben decisively beat him to it. With hardly a gargle of warning Draco felt the child in his arms lurch forward, heard the unmistakable sound of expectorating, and smelled the signature scent of sick as a warm and gooey substance was transferred to his shirt.

"Oh no!" Abigail bemoaned fretfully, dashing across the kitchen.

"I am so sorry, Mr. Malfoy!" she exclaimed, taking her son swiftly out of Draco's arms. "He's been sick and fussing all night. I would have got back here sooner but there was a line for the phone…"

"It's my fault!" Ford interjected quickly. "I don't know what I was thinking putting my home address down…"

"Please, let me help you!" Abigail insisted, coming towards a frozen Draco with a wash cloth and a bottle of club soda.

"I'm fine!" Draco shouted intensely, quieting both the parents so only the giggles of the little girl could be heard.

"It's fine," he replied, softer this time. He grabbed handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at the stain. The sick immediately evaporated from his shirt, though he continued the motion just the same.

"I am so sorry about all this," Buford continued apologetically.

"Let's just go to your office and move on," Draco commanded shortly, walking towards the door in disgust.

"Please," Buford insisted, following him out the door. "There must be something I can do to make up for all of this."

"Mummy, what does 'fuck' mean?" Natalie inquired innocently, splicing through the tension. The room was momentarily filled with a shocked silence as the parents turned to face their young daughter.

"I reckon that's about even," Draco replied quickly, hiding his grimace of fault as hurried out the flat.

* * *

Draco took very little solace in being right as he first entered Buford Wilkinson's office. It was a shabby cluttered room littered with piles of books, crumpled parchment, and what appeared to be remains of half-finished or unsuccessful inventions.

"_What the hell am I doing?_" he demanded of himself. _Why am I here? _He had been shaken out of his sleep, pelted at with eggs, dragged to the wrong address, forced to communicate with a Muggle, held captive by a five year old, been thrown up on and had seemingly waltzed into a business plan involving a man who apparently only remembered to shave half his face, all before lunch time. And for what? To prove a point? The world didn't care about if he failed or not. To seek out independence from his parents? Well he did a jolly good job of that, seeing as how his father had disowned him, told him never to come back, and had probably already blasted his face off the family tree. For a girl? Draco recalled the shrewd and angry creature that he had argued with that morning, picturing her intense face and shouted words.

_I sure know how to pick 'em._

"Once again I am so sorry about all this," Buford pressed, weaving in and out between piles of his sorted junk. "I can be a tad disorganized…"

"I hadn't noticed," Draco snapped, switching his anger to the infuriatingly bemused man. "Honestly, how can you find your own shadow in this dump, let alone your work?"

"Abigail," he replied simply, smiling happily. "She's got what they call a 'photographic memory'. She comes in all the time and helps me tidy up. Then when I can't find something I give her a call and she can tell me right where I put something from all the home. It's amazing."

"How touching," Draco sneered, finding the man's jubilation over such a trifling ability irritating.

"Anyways," Buford grinned, reading Draco's disinterest. "How would you like to see what all the fuss has been about?"

"Might as well," Draco sighed, no longer really having any interest in such a thing. Perhaps he should just leave. Perhaps he should just Disapperate from the spot over to the Malfoy Manor, bang loudly on the gate, beg his father to take him back, and spend the rest of his life making amends to his family for his flirtation with insanity.

Draco had just formed a clear picture of the boundaries of his estate when his eyes rested upon Buford.

"Tada!" he announced, waving his arms over a large table. There rested upon it, cleared from the towering masses of junk, laid…more junk.

Children's junk, he relabeled more specifically. A standard sized potion's cauldron, a stack of school books, an old Cleansweep broom and an array of potion supplies were strewn across the table's surface.

"You do know all of this stuff has already been invented, right?" Draco demanded, fury growing in his chest over having his time and life wasted.

"Well yes, of course," Ford beamed, oblivious to Draco's anger. "These are all objects that can be found in any young witch or wizard's room. I reckon you yourself have all these things, though I am sure they're all of much nicer quality than my old stuff."

Draco cocked his eyebrow furiously, demanding he get on with it.

"The problem is these are all objects that are remarkably out of place in a Muggle's room," Ford continued unabashedly.

"No way," Draco interjected, turning from the spot. "I am not going to be involved in any scheme to try and sell magic items to Muggles to even some sort of playing field…"

"No, no wait!" Ford pressed, grabbing Draco's arm to keep him from leaving. "I've gone about this all wrong. Let me start over. You're a Muggleborn…"

"What did you just call me?" Draco snapped, pulling out his want and sticking it in his throat.

"Just imagine, sir," the man a good ten years older begged, the first flash of fear crossing his warm eyes. "Imagine you go a full eleven years thinking you're a Muggle. Your family is all Muggles, your classmates, friends, neighbors, everyone you know! And then suddenly someone comes knocking on your door on your birthday and tells you this wonderful news of what you really are. Wonderful, but completely life altering news. Suddenly you find yourself with a completely new life, with new rules, new futures, new friends. It's all completely amazing but totally overwhelming. As time goes by you adjust to Hogwarts and with who you are, but what about over the holidays? When you have to go back home and resume life as a Muggle? It's a terribly tricky double life to have to lead. You still love and want to be a part of your family. You still want to play football with the kids down the street like you had since you were seven. You still hope the pretty girl next door will agree to go to the park with you in the evenings. It's a hard life, because everything and nothing has changed."

Draco took a step back and lowered his wand after taking in the scenario. He had never thought about that before. Not that he cared or anything, but he could at least recognize that there was a struggle involved.

"Okay. But was has any of that got to do with me?" Draco demanded.

"Well, like I said, there are a lot of balances a Muggleborn has to deal with," Ford continued, smiling at Draco's release. "And the last thing any child, Wizard and Muggle alike, wants to deal with is keeping their room tidy."

Draco stared at the man, completely at a loss at how that last statement had anything to do with what they were talking about.

"All these items," Ford said with a laugh, "are all things that can be found in a magical teenager's room. They are also all things that they have to hide from their Muggle relatives and friends. Underage wizards can't use magic out of class so they can't simply cast a Concealment charm. The only option they have is to simply hide it, which is a right pain in the arse, not to mention detrimental to one's psyche."

"Okay…" Draco replied, half following where Ford was roundaboutly leading.

"Hiding is their only option," Ford repeated, "unless they have these."

Ford held up a serving tray filled with small stone bowls. Inside each bowl sat powders of different textures and colors. Without any further explanation he went about sprinkling the individual powders over the different objects. They rained down slowly, obviously attracted to particular things. Draco watched as the objects were coated with the powder, holding his breath as he intently looked for what was supposed to happen.

"Was that supposed to do something?" Draco demanded after a few seconds. "All I see now is slightly dusty old junk."

"You're serious?" Ford inquired, looking over Draco as though _he_ were the one that was broken. "My God, you really don't have _any_ Muggle blood in you, do you?"

Draco snapped his head forward, enraged at such a question and the tone the man gave him.

"No worries!" Ford shouted quickly, running back into his jungle of junk. He returned later with a pair of gaudy looking spectacles.

"What are these?" Draco sneered as the glasses were shoved into his hands.

"Muggle-Specs," Ford explained. "It will help you see things through the eyes of a Muggle."

Draco stared irately at the man, furious at the implication and request. How dare he suggest that Draco do such a thing. But, admittedly Draco was a little curious, and he had come this far. Shaking his head in disbelief, Draco put the glasses on.

He took a step back and gasped. Instantly all of the objects on the table transformed. The cauldron cubed out into something with a shiny screen and buttons. The Cleansweep's bristles turned into something of a wicker basket. All the textbooks had changed titles from names he was familiar with over to such things as _The Complete Works of Shakespeare, The Chronicles of Narnia, The Iliad, _and dozens of other absurd sounding things.

"What are all these things?" Draco asked in awe, picking up what he knew to be a broomstick but feeling the basket just the same.

"Muggle artifacts," Ford said proudly. "What you have in your hands is for a sport called Lacrosse. The books are all cannon texts that Muggles read in school. As for the cauldron…well, that is my best work, I believe."

He pointed his wand at the black box and instantly figures flashed across the screen. Draco stood mesmerized as a lanky man in an overcoat jumped into a Muggle phone booth which proceeded to fly away.

"What is that?" Draco inquired in amazement.

"A television, fully functional," Ford said proudly. "But the program is called Doctor Who."

"Doctor who?" Draco repeated, pulling off the glasses. Instantly the objects returned to their original state, the dialogue of the show cut off midsentence.

"Exactly," Ford smiled. "I've made up concealment powders for about near everything I can think of. All the kids have to do is sprinkle their stuff with it and their magic items will transform the instant a Muggle walks into their room. That way if a friend wants to watch TV or read one of their books they can do so together. You can also personalize the powder so some things don't change for specific Muggles. My whole house is covered with this stuff so my neighbors don't see anything, but it wouldn't do for my wife to pick up my wand thinking it's a baby rattle and handing it to my son, would it?"

"I suppose not," Draco replied, his mind reeling in thought.

"Oh, and that's another thing!" Ford stated, his excitement intensifying. "This product isn't just limited to Muggleborn students. These would be great for any witch or wizard. Think if you got a Muggle friend, you probably wouldn't know what to hide or what was missing from your house that a Muggle would notice. This will make it so much easier for Muggles and Wizards to build relationships! God knows I wish I had thought of this before while Abby and I were dating…"

Draco could literally feel his mind split into two. On one hand Draco was beyond amazed with Ford's powder. It was sheer simplistic genius. The fact that you had to buy a powder for each object would rake in a fortune. Every child with Muggle relations would want it. With the new Muggle Loving Regime in place everyone would be clamoring to "Muggle Proof" their homes. It was the perfect time and the perfect market for such a product. It could be sold for everything, updated to keep in touch with new technologies and easily personalized. It was in a sense the perfect product.

But on the darker side Draco was repulsed by the idea. Muggles should be the ones who had to live in fear of discovery, not the other way around. Ford's invention could be a catalyst for social change, making interactions with Muggles more common place, _encouraged_ even. How much magic blood would be diluted as the number of Muggle marriages increased? Ford's product not only went against every value Draco had been raised with, it eradicated them completely.

"So…what do you think?" Ford asked hopefully, grinning through his nerves.

"It's brilliant," Draco said simply. Ford clapped his hands, smiling as though he had won a sack full of Galleons.

"Why did you come to me with this?" Draco demanded quietly, running his hands through the different powders in contemplation. Ford's delight dimmed slightly at the question, and he rubbed the unshaved side of his face nervously.

"I've never been very good with money," he said slowly. "Abby says it's because I'm a dreamer. I am, but I can't very well dream my life away as I watch my family live in an unsafe neighborhood with hardly enough money for food. They deserve better than that. But my credit…Gringotts won't touch me with a loan. Most private investors take one look at me and shut the door in my face. But I couldn't give up. I _know_ that my inventions can make money, lots of money. So I needed someone who had the ability to finance me, but was…

"As desperate as you were," Draco finished, fitting the last piece together. His father had apparently done a good enough job to make it seem like they had money, but even this absent minded Muggleborn could see that they were in dire straits and that their wealth would not last for long. Draco felt the harsh sting of that reality slap. Buford Wilkinson saw the precarious situation of the Malfoys, of their disgrace in being saved by Potter, of their steady but slow decline in wealth, and picked them out as the perfect way to get funding. He figured that, like himself, they would eventually be desperate enough to do anything to pull themselves back up, to save their family, even if it meant helping Mudbloods and Muggles.

What he hadn't counted on was Lucius Malfoy's unyielding pride and stubbornness. Ford's hopes for a symbiotic relationship were blocked by the same character foil that Draco had spent the last years hating. His father refused to change, to adapt. He would rather descend into poverty than admit he had been wrong. He would refuse anything that went against his inherited status quo even if it was obvious that it would help him.

He would disown his only son for falling in love with a Half Blood even though it meant family suicide.

"I need someone to help me with the business aspect of this venture," Ford continued. "To help finance, market, network…I don't have the first clue about any of those things, and I'm afraid I don't make a very good impression on any one. But I'm a hard worker, and promise you I will stick through the whole mess until we can turn profits. What do you say?"

Draco stared at the hand that was extended to him. He had to make a choice. Go into business with this man, who was a credit risk but a genius, figure out ways to promote his products and make them a ton of money, or walk away with a sneer, losing out but keeping his Malfoy name intact.

"_Cavalier is a word that can be used to mean two completely different things depending on the way you choose to use it. The same goes with being a Malfoy. You can't change the fact that you are one, but you still have the chance to change what being a Malfoy means."_

Astoria's words rang through his head, her green eyes shining clearly in his mind as she stared at him with a mix of pride and possession. She deserved more than what they had. She deserved great things, a man who had accomplished something.

She deserved a world where she was judged by everyone by her abilities and not by her blood.

"I say you've got yourself a partner," Draco answered firmly, grabbing the man's hand in affirmation.

* * *

Astoria marched through Diagon Ally, shielding her face from the harsh wind. She had been in an intense mood all day, and even Cheri did not dare to bother her. She had been all over the negative emotional spectrum. Though she had spent most of the day fueled by a hot anger, she could not ignore the occasional dip into sadness and regret. Had she gone too far? Had she hurt him? Did all this arguing stem from his regret for choosing her over his parents? Where they even capable of living with each other happily?

She would ask herself these things and then immediately switch back to anger. No one ever made her as mad as Draco could, and that included her mother. As she approached the apothecary she had effectively shut out any worry or remorse she felt and simply dwelled on how she wanted to squish him like the slimy insect that he was. She noticed the lights were on through their windows, signifying he was home. With every step she took her rage and anger for the man grew. A curse was already formed on her lips as she pushed open the door.

Her words caught in her throat as she stepped inside. All the strewn about clutter that had littered the living room had vanished. The couch cushions were in perfect order. The kitchen floor was free of egg debris and scrubbed clean. Not a single dirty dish could be found. As she inspected further her eyes were immediately drawn to the table. A vase of vibrant flowers adorned the surface set up with takeout food and her favorite bottle of wine. She approached the area cautiously, afraid to make a sound or even breath as tried to comprehend what happened.

Her head snapped up as she heard the door to her greenhouse close. Draco walked out, cleaned up in his nice black robes, holding an empty flower pot in his hands as it smoked menacingly.

"I wasn't sure when you'd be coming home," he explained simply. "So I yelled at your plants for you. I know you said that it was most effective to do so in the evening."

"You cleaned the flat," she replied quietly, looking around awkwardly.

"Yeah. I did the laundry and the dishes, tidied up a bit. I prepared dinner, and by prepared I mean I ordered in, but I made sure they threw in those little breadsticks you like so much."

"And…the flowers?" she asked, touching the vibrant petals softly.

"Those aren't for you," he replied in a smirk, tossing the empty pot aside. "They're for me. I always liked when my mother had arrangements on the table. I know you don't like flowers, but to me the table always just looked bare. And this is our home now. I want to put some pride in where I live, make it more like home."

Astoria's lips parting slightly after his statement was her only physical sign showcasing how floored she was. For weeks an anger had been building up in her chest over Draco not seeming to care about where he lived or the extra burdens he had been placing on her. All day she had stewed in a hot rage, struggling with wither or not she could keep living with him, if she even wanted to.

And yet all of the animosity that had been plaguing her for ages evaporated within a minute of stepping back into the flat. She wasn't sure how or even why she knew this, but she was certain that something had happened that day that made him understand. These actions weren't simple empty gestures to get back on her good side, but a proclamation of life changes. She was so thoroughly touched and elated that she struggled to find the perfect words to express her gratitude.

"I'll grab us some plates," she said quickly, turning away as she hurried into the kitchen. _Dammit, _she thought to herself, her hand shaking as she opened the cupboard door. _I never used to cry before this man came along. And certainly never from being happy…_

Draco watched her fiddle about silently in the kitchen, the grin on his face growing as she shifted through the utensils in fluster.

"Hey, Azzy," he called out, deciding to try something. "You wouldn't happen to know where my nice cufflinks are, would you? I've been looking all over the place for them."

"You put them in that little bowl in the nightstand by your side of the bed," she replied without missing a beat.

Draco let out the full extent of his smile and took to the kitchen in long, determined strides. Astoria had just enough time to put down the dishes and wipe away her solitary tear before Draco pulled her into a kiss. The weeks of stress and intensity melted off their shoulders as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer.

"I'm sorry I've been such an ass," he whispered, causing her to laugh as he tickled her ear. "But I'm going to try harder, I promise."

"I suppose I could be more compromising," Astoria countered. "I can try and be more flexible, and use words instead of eggs."

Draco let out his own laugh, and in an instant he scooped her up into his arms.

"What about dinner?" she asked with a smile, looking over his shoulder as he carried her to the bedroom.

"I haven't eaten a damn thing all day," he stated. "Why start now?"

* * *

Draco gently stroked Astoria's thick textured hair as she slept deeply by his side. Dishes from them eating dinner in bed sat stacked on the dresser after Astoria deemed they could wait to be cleaned tomorrow. Draco presented no objection, fully content to spend the rest of the night next to her.

She was without a doubt the oddest creature he had ever met. He never thought he would encounter someone more prideful and stubborn than himself. It was almost a guarantee that the smallest of issues would escalate into a huge fight, especially as they were both prone to letting anger get the best of them.

And yet despite all this Astoria had always been very forgiving. She seemed to understand his own reactions to situations, and never really held a grudge against what he said when first set off. After they both cooled off from their outrageous fights it was always easy to talk to one another. They both gave and accepted apologies in the same way, making their insane relationship work despite conventional wisdom.

It was at that moment Draco knew for certain he had made the right decision. He could think of no other way for a person to know and handle him better than Astoria did. She kept him in line while simultaneously inspiring to push boundaries. She was fierce, loyal, insane, beautiful and everything he never knew he wanted.

He couldn't help but think about the Wilkinson's and how bizarre yet similar their relationship were. The idea of a wizard and a Muggle entering in a union together had always made him disgusted, but as he analyzed what little he knew of them he felt he understood. Abigail not only accepted the fact that her husband was a wizard, but all of his absent mindedness and his poor financing management. And it was clear that Ford adored his wife. After they had finished at the office Draco returned back to Ford's flat to pick up paperwork he had left behind. Ford had instantly gone into the kitchen to help clean up the lunch plates, washing them by hand alongside his wife. Draco wondered why he didn't just clear the place with magic when he got a sudden inkling that that wasn't the point. Abigail managed to make their small living space stuffed with children and cluttered inventions a home, and Ford honored and respected her hard work by doing the same.

Astoria and Abigail were very different women, just as he found little comparison between himself and Buford. But what he did see was that the foundation of a happy relationship was based on creating a balance between two people's differences, and accepting all parts of the person you cared about even if you don't necessarily agree with them.

For the first time in his life Draco thought about his future. Not of how much money he would have or where he would live, but about what kind of life he wanted. With some fine tuning he could easily see he and Astoria striking up that balance and driving each other crazy for the rest of their lives. And though he knew he was far from ready for such a thing and she currently refused outright to have any, Draco couldn't help but think back to that amazing feeling he felt as he held that tiny baby in his arms. Astoria probably wouldn't be as playful and craftsy as a mother as some women might be, but he had no doubt in his mind that she would be a great one none the less. In fact he even imagined that were they to have a girl she would probably be a lot like Natalie.

_Which is why,_ Draco thought with a grin, tossing his arm around Astoria as he settled into sleep, _I'll insist that we have a boy._


	21. Here Comes The Sun

_**(A/N: A completely unplanned and impromptu chapter I came up with after a few reviewers mentioned I had been leaving a key part out of my plot recently. I guess if life hands you lemons you just have to hand one right back **____**) **_

Here Comes the Sun

"Draco, where are you taking me?"

"It's a surprise. Hence me saying 'wake up, I have a surprise'."

"Yes, but usually that means 'wake up and roll over', not 'wake up and follow me to the rooftops before the crack of dawn'," Astoria muttered, being careful not to trip over the edge of where one roof ended and another began. Draco merely smirked as he continued to tug urgently on her hand, leading her across the rows of connected buildings on Diagon Alley. Astoria was completely perplexed. Usually it was a chore to get him to wake up before nine, let alone any earlier and on the weekend. But this morning she had been roused by a soft nudge and a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes opened to the image of Draco kneeling before her, fully dressed, her cloak in his hands as he stood grinning in the dark. Under any other circumstance she would have told him to shove off, but she was so thoroughly taken aback by the situation she couldn't help but follow. Now as she stood out in the dark, the cold wind whipping at her face, she cursed herself for losing her wits.

She scowled as she looked upwards. It had been a particularly long and nasty winter. Grey clouds had perpetually stained the sky since Christmas. The plants in her greenhouse had suffered due to this, no matter how threating she or Draco were to them. As for her potion…well, she had achieved a mixed bag of problematic success to say the least.

"Draco, I'm serious. Tell me what we're doing," she demanded, finding her already questionable mood turning sour as they hit a literal brick wall.

"Just trust me, okay?" he shot back. He raised his arms to their full extent, grabbing hold of the edge of tallest building on their block. He swung himself up quickly, disappearing for a moment as he got to his feet. Astoria crossed her arms and frowned as he offered her his hand.

"Quit being such a nancy," he grinned, dipping his hand down closer. Astoria scoffed in exasperation before allowing him to heave her up onto the roof. He pulled her in hard so she crashed into his chest. He smirked obnoxiously at her before she quickly pushed herself away. Scowling, she turned from him and faced the horizon.

It was then that she first spotted it. At their height their view was expanded to see more of the horizon. Far out in the distance she noticed a break in the cloud line. And at the very bottom of that break she saw the faint pink and yellow traces of light.

"Sunshine," she whispered breathlessly, almost not believing what she saw.

"That's correct," Draco replied smugly from behind. "The forecast predicts a whole twenty minutes of it."

"I know this is silly, but I'd almost…forgotten," she trailed off, smiling as the first beam of light landed on her chilled face.

"That's why I had it cleared just for you," Draco continued, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"How impressive of you," she grinned, biting her lip in containment.

"It's true. How else do you explain this happening on our anniversary?" he inquired, kissing her temple lightly.

"Anniversary?" she exclaimed, turning to face him in further bewilderment.

"Mmmhmm. Today is exactly six months since I first bent you over and helped you see God," he explained self-contentedly.

"How do you even remember that?" she inquired, her morning amazement never ceasing.

"It's Pansy's half birthday," he replied simply. Astoria's quick anger was channeled through her closed fist crashing into his shoulder.

"Ouch!" he laughed. "Come on, she burnt any day having to do with her into my mind ages ago. But obviously it actually means something to me now…darling."

"Nice save," she muttered, begrudgingly allowing him to place his arms back around her.

"I thought so," he replied.

"Six months," she repeated in contemplation. "Has it really only been _that_ long?"

"Feels like it's been a lifetime, I know."

"A couple of lifetimes," she bantered back, reflecting quietly over the implication of the milestone. So much had changed in that flash of time. Back then she would have done anything for freedom, for her independence. The idea of a relationship went against everything she stood for, and love was simply an illness that ate away at one's life, identity, and sanity. Draco Malfoy was nothing more to her than another male Slytherin elite; acknowledgeable in intelligence and arguably attractive, but far from the smartest or hottest in the bunch.

But now as she felt his warm breath on her neck as his chin rested upon her shoulder she had to admit she could no longer picture life without him. He was still maddening as ever, inherently spoiled and zealously smug, but those had all become inexplicably endearing traits that made him who he was. Something about his self-righteous nature and smirking confidence allowed her to be overpowered by him in key instances. The ways he handled her, like dragging her out of bed in the morning and herding across rooftops, caused her to be tricked into romance that she would otherwise deject in an instant. And these rouses caused an elation and intimate passion for another human being that she never thought possible. These were experiences she secretly appreciated having been fooled into, for they were feelings she had definitely been missing out on.

"So tell me, am I the most romantic and thoughtful boyfriend or what?" he inquired, the smirk on his face all too clearly pictured in her mind.

"Will you be quiet? Your big head is casting a shadow and I haven't felt the sun in ages," she replied back, suppressing a grin as he squeezed her stomach affectionately. "But as far as things you've done this certainty hasn't been your worst idea. It's definitely better than the 'Valentine's Day Fiasco'."

"I thought we agreed never to mention that again," he stated bitterly. "Besides, it's not like you actually care about stuff like that or this."

"I never said that," she interjected quickly, intent on preserving their moment. "Well, okay, maybe I did, but I certainly didn't _mean_ it."

"I know," he laughed, kissing her cheek again. "Which why, given the present circumstances, I thought it especially pertinent that we do something today."

"What do you mean?" she asked seriously, turning around so she could face him properly.

"Well it's just things are changing, aren't they?" he stated, smiling in assurance as he explained himself. "I have that big business meeting coming up that could launch my whole company. You're in the final stages of your potion which could mean really big things for you. All of which is really great, but things are about to get really hectic. We'll both be really busy with responsibilities tugging on us at every angle. I figured it would be important for us to take the time to make sure that no matter what direction our careers take us that we go the paths together."

Astoria's lips parted in astonishment. No matter how well she thought she knew him Draco could always manage to surprise. She had not thought about the changes that lay ahead of them, but he was right. Draco had been working tirelessly on his presentation for his and Ford's powder. If it was able to sell, which she knew it would, he would be uplifted into instant and breaking success. As for her potion…well it was, in a sense, completed…

She had not thought about what these changes and challenges could mean for their relationship, which is why she knew she needed Draco more than ever. These were the important things that he realized and brought to their attention. Though she felt like she was the one who often carried them through day to day, it was always Draco who paved the way for the big picture. Despite his selfish spoiled ways it was clear that he cared for her, for them, very deeply. She was so touched by the sentiment she could barely string her words together to form phrases of gratitude and endearment. All she could do was stand as her cheeks flushed hard despite the sun's warmth, and let her intense and undying feelings for him wash over her.

"Draco," she was finally able to state, her voice cracking in overwhelming emotion.

"Why Azzy, you look like you have something on your mind," he replied to her in false concern, his lips flipping up in the beginnings of a smirk. "Almost like you have something you wish to tell, neigh, confess to me."

Astoria's wits and self-control were immediately brought about by the implication, and she responded with the nastiest scowl she could muster.

"Fuck you," she spat, once again turning to move away from him.

"No, that's not the verb I was looking for," he announced, grabbing her arms firmly so she couldn't struggle away. "It was close though, you got the letter count correct."

"Unhand me, you bastard!" she demanded through gritted teeth, continuing to wriggle under his hold. "I don't say those words and I never will!"

"And why do I not believe you?" he inquired calmly, his eyes flashing in desire as she continued to fight him.

"Because you're a fool!" she stated through a gnash. "And if it means so much to you why don't you just say it?"

"Ladies first," he smirked, before grasping her face and pulling her into a kiss. Astoria grimaced as his hands went up into her hair, locking her into a submissive place. She pounded on his chest to push him away, but he simply ignored her protest and continued kissing her. His hands untangled themselves from her hair and slid down to her waist. Before she knew it he had lifted her off her feet and proceeded to carry her towards the center of the rooftop. Astoria stretched her arms, bracing herself on his shoulders to push herself away. Her strength, however, seemed to quickly fail her and she found her muscles relaxing with every step he took. By the time she felt her back pressed against the firm brick of the chimney her hands were all but clutching his neck. When he seated her down on the chimney's protruding base without ever breaking their kiss she could only manage to push him away slightly. Her hands remained firm on his chest, leaving a few tantalizing inches between their bodies so he could not fully embrace her. But even this act of protest was not long lasting, as her legs could not help but wrap themselves around his waist, capturing him and pulling him closer.

"This is why I think you will say it first," he muttered into her ear, his hands slowly falling down the fabric of his old dress shirt she wore to bed. Astoria gasped as his frozen hand lay upon her thigh, the spark of cold contact causing her heart to leap. Slowly his hand inched forward until his fingertips slipped determinedly under her knickers. She grasped at his neck, breathing hard as she buried her head at the base. The chilled condition of his fingers was more acutely felt as they slowly massaged her clit. Her hips started thrusting forward, part in due to warm his hands with her own body heat, but mostly to urge him further. Draco gave off a contemptuous smirking laugh at the motion before plunging his two fingers deep within her folds. The vast difference between his frozen fingers and her wet heat was shocking, and she whimpered heavily into his neck as his hand continued to slide in and out of her swiftly. Her hands grasped the thin fabric of his shirt and she could feel his own heart pounding intently.

He removed his free hand from her thigh and gently grabbed her own, guiding it down his slick torso to his trousers. She immediately felt his hard member through the fabric, and she closed her eyes in shared pleasure as he started to cant against her grip. Her hands shook as she unlatched his belt, her brain sensually overloaded as his thumb circled her clit in concert with his continued thrusts. Heat radiated from his smooth prick as she was finally able to wrap her hands around it, and his own breathing became hitched as his free hand tangled itself back in her hair. A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold spilt down her spine as she let her desire overtake her. She pushed him away gently so she could slide off the base of the chimney and settle to her knees.

"Fuck Azzy," he groaned as her mouth stretched tight around his length. He stared down at her, watching his cock slide in and out of her lips as she took him inch by inch. Her tongue always managed to swish precipitously around his tip each time she pulled away, causing him to twitch in elation before she stuffed him back down her throat. The sensation was almost too much for him, and he felt impending signs of release. Despite the rush of serotonin and endorphins flooding his brain a memory clearly lodged itself into his consciousness. He recalled the last time he came too early, of the cuts that seared his wrists from being tied up, and the promise of a perpetual state of capture if he ever did such a thing again. He couldn't help but laugh at the recollection, and affectionately stroked the hair of the crazed woman who continued to suck him off.

A gust of brutal wind blew their way, causing Astoria to wince and shiver as she caught her breath. The sun had already begun to disappear behind the thick clouds and her cloak had been long since abandoned, leaving her clad only in his old dress shirt and thin lacy knickers. He quickly grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet, wrapping his arms around her as she released another shiver. With a flick of his wand he produced a thick and soft blanket and spread out onto the ground. Without another wasted second he grabbed her thigh and lifted up her leg, gently lowering her down before lying on top of her.

"To protect you from the wind," he grinned, settling himself into his rightful place between her legs.

"How valiant," she replied, smirking back at him before locking into another kiss. One of Draco's hands tenderly clutched her face as the other scaled down her body possessively. He slipped the buttons off the shirt one by one until he could feel her soft skin under his palm. He rolled one of her swollen breasts in his hold, lightly pinching the nipple before claiming it with his lips. He heard her gasp as he dragged his tongue across it, feeling the textured goose bumps that formed as he did.

"You're so beautiful," he muttered as his face returned to hers, his hands dipping back into her folds as he rose slightly to his knees. Astoria kissed him hard as she reached out for his cock desperately.

"And you're like putty in my hands," he smirked before plunging himself inside her. Astoria merely moaned in response, both hating and loving the truth of the statement. She grasped to him tightly as he rocked into her forcefully, bathing in the sounds of his grunted curses and moans. After a few minutes his hands slipped between her thighs, touching her urgently in the hopes that she would follow him into climax.

At that very moment she couldn't help but admit that she would follow him anywhere, and as her orgasm hit her violently she had no choice but to kiss him desperately. She needed her mouth to be engaged, otherwise she was certain that those three little and dangerous words would come tumbling helplessly out.


	22. Four Letter Words

**_(A/N: Merry Christmas and happy belated birthday to this story! A year and two weeks and still I'm not done! So me...enjoy!)_**

Four Letter Words

The pristine pile of parchment lay under the vase of fresh flowers, waiting with a cold and mocking perfection as Draco stared. The project was complete. All of Ford's powders were finished and packed to go. Draco had painstakingly invested his money into supplies, advertisements, and a powerful new suit for Ford to wear to their first big meeting with a potential buyer. It was all set up, all ready. If all went well his investment business would be on its way with nothing but possibilities standing in front of him. Today was the day that would start the rest of life and shape his future.

He had never hated himself more.

He paced irately in front of the small dining room table, cursing his name and his stupidity. He cast a vengeful look at his papers, scathing harder as he flung some of the blame on to them. It was the parchment's fault he was in the situation he was in. They did this to him. They made him lose all of his money. Their being caused him to despise himself. Their simple existence plagued him with the most cruel and fleeting emotion possible:

Hope.

"Draco," he heard Astoria call out in concern from behind him, "what's that smoking?"

"The physical evidence of my ridiculous dreams," he spat, staring stoically at the burning pile of papers he had unwittingly ignited.

"Your paperwork!" Astoria gasped. She immediately pushed him aside and waved her wand over the table frantically. The flames were instantly extinguished and the files returned to their insultingly flawless state.

"Why on earth did you do that?" she demanded, flipping through the parchment she had meticulously revised to ensure it was all there.

"Why the fuck does it matter?" he replied, his jaw clenching as his self-loathing rage continued to consume him.

"Draco you've been working on this for ages! These are all of your ledgers, your contracts, your notes! You need all of this to get the powder sold when you go to…"

"To him?" Draco interjected quickly, a menacing smile dominating his face. Astoria quit her words, her confusion vanishing.

"Well…yes. I mean you have to go to him. He's the entrance to your market. If he can get it to sell you're as good as set," she said, reminding him of his own logic.

"And why do you think he'll want to have anything to do with me and what I have to sell?" he inquired, laying his newly discovered reasoning on her.

"Because…because…" she sputtered, obviously flustered by the interrogation. "Because he's a good businessman! This is a remarkable and revolutionary product! He'd be a fool to turn it down. He'd miss out on a fortune!"

"And when has anyone claimed that he and his kind were anything but fools who turn down fortunes?" he replied roughly, the conversation causing him to sink further into a depression. "Astoria he is foolish, stubborn, prideful and principled to a fault. He'll take one look at me and my involvement in the venture and slam the door in our faces."

"Then you'll just go try and sell it someplace else…"

"THERE IS NO PLACE ELSE!" he yelled, slamming his hand down on the table. "He is the only person who can take the powder and sell it to any success, and I was a bloody fool for imagining he'd want it."

He turned away from the table, walking aimlessly into the kitchen. His intense temper immediately faded back into self-remorse and he buried his head into his hand as he leaned against the counter.

"Astoria I have everything, _everything_, I have ridding on this venture. If it fails I won't have the capitol to start again and I don't know what I'll do. I went into this thinking that with Ford's good idea and my savvy that everything would just fall into place. But now I realize that none of that matters. We're going to fail because of me, because of who I am and what I've done. And I know that I chose the losing side and I have to take the repercussions, but somehow it just doesn't seem fair."

Astoria stared at her boyfriend looking dejectedly at the kitchen countertop. She felt her heart sink as she watched his hands tremble slightly. He turned his head away from her, and though she could not see it happen she knew that he was fighting tears. Astoria had never known Draco to cry and she found herself fighting her own sobs at the thought.

"Draco, honey," she cooed, letting the term of endearment slip out as she stepped forward to comfort him. Draco pulled his shoulder away from her touch, slinking back into the dining room.

"Azzy I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, but I just really don't feel like being coddled right now," he expressed emotionlessly, keeping his stare fixed to the floor. Despite the fact that he did not look at her she nodded her head in understanding and respected his desire for physical space. But she still refused to see things the way he did and she was determined to return him to the cool and confident businessman she knew he could be.

"But look at how much you've changed!" she continued to press softly. "Look at the product you're pushing! It will strengthen wizard ties with Muggles, not separate them! His kind are all about second chances and forgiveness, especially after he sees what you're trying to do. And…well, look at us."

"Astoria, you're the only one who cares or even knows about all that," he replied sternly. "He's not going to see me and think I want to help Muggle relations, or even that I'm desperate enough for money not to care what the product does as long as I get a profit. Even if the world did know you're not really a Pureblood he's not going to think it's very progressive that I'm dating you. All he will see is a pathetic Death Eater who tried to kill his family and will shut the door in my face the moment he recognizes me. I won't be given enough time to show that I am different, and it's foolish to think that I'll be given such a chance."

Astoria stood quietly, unable to find a rebuttal to his argument. As much as she believed in him and wished it not to be true, she knew he was right. Draco had made choices that would hurt and haunt him for the rest of his life at a very young age. And while she personally felt it was unfair that he be denied a second chance, she also recognized why the potential buyer of all people would lose no sleep over denying him in an instant. Draco had summed it up very neatly in stating that there was no way he could prove himself a changed man in the split second he would have an audience.

Except…

Selfish dread filled Astoria's body after her next thought appeared. She wished with all of her might that she could forget it. Such a thought would set her back ages, practically stealing all she had worked for based on a long shot for someone else. The odds of it working were so slim that it was professional suicide to try it. It would be perfectly within her rights to swallow the idea and carry on as if it had never surfaced.

Yet as she stared at the seemingly finished and crestfallen shell of Draco Malfoy she knew instantly she had to act on it. As painful as it was to do such a thing she could not stand by and watch the man she loved suffer when she could do something about it. Tossing her own wants aside she stepped forward into the dining room and offered up her most precious sacrifice in the name of that four letter word.

"What if you could show him in that first instant that you've changed?" she inquired, her voice surprisingly stable despite the pang in her chest.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, too dejected to add in a sneer.

"What if you could prove to him the instant that he opened the door that you're different? That you're not the Death Eater you used to be and that you've made actual physical steps to prove it?" she continued, her eyes brightening with every word. "You think he would listen to you then?"

"I…I don't know, maybe," he replied with a shrug. "But that's impossible."

Astoria looked him over one more time, going over her options again. This was not about her, she decided. It was about him. And in the grander scheme of things it was about them. All she had to do was decide what she cared about most: her future or theirs.

Draco barely had the strength to lift an eyebrow as he watched her march determinedly to her greenhouse. She returned within seconds, her fist clenched as she walked back with the most serious and intense look on her face that he had ever seen.

"Do you trust me?" she asked, forcing herself into his line of sight. Draco scoffed in exasperation.

"Astoria now is really not the time…"

"Do you trust me?" she repeated firmly, grabbing his arm roughly.

"Yes, of course I do," he replied off handedly, turning his gaze away to sulk some more.

"Good," she said, taking a deep breath. "Because this is going to hurt. A lot."

Before Draco could process that comment she pulled his arm out straight and twisted it upward. She yelled some spell he had never heard before and produced a small glass vial from her closed fist. In another swift moment she slammed the vial down on to his arm, causing it to break into two clean pieces.

Draco was about to yell at her, demanding to know what she was doing, when suddenly he was hit with an intense and scorching pain. His nerves exploded as it felt like his whole body was engulfed in flames. Though there was no fire he felt sure that his skin was being burnt away. His stomach clenched as he gasped for air, hardly able to scream out in horrifying agony as he collapsed to the floor. His heart beat so rapidly it nearly burst and his eyes filled with tears as he rolled helplessly on the ground. Only once had he felt something akin to this, but so consuming was the pain that he could not make the relation to when that experience was.

He was dimly aware of Astoria kneeling next to him, calmly holding open another vial as she tried to poor it on his arm. Enraged, he swung out his hand and smacked her hard across the cheek, causing her to spill across the floor.

"It's soothing balm!" she heaved, collecting herself from her assault. "Use it! Quickly!"

Draco felt murderous, and the only clear thought that escaped his excruciating mind was that he needed to hurt her as much or more than she had hurt him. His brain did however recognize that it was in fact soothing balm she had brought, and the less he had to focus on his own pain the more he could focus on hers.

He dumped the bottle over his arm. Instantly the rest of his body ceased to burn, though it still shook from extreme shock. His forearm still felt enflamed and the pain was still very real, but compared to what he had just gone through the hurt was more than bearable. The physical hurt, anyhow.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH!" he screamed, scrambling to his feet. "I'll kill you for what you've done to me! You wretched cunt, look what you've done!"

Draco tore back his sleeve, ready to shove his mangled disfigured arm into her face, when he was hit with another round of shock. His arm was not burned. There were no welts or scorch marks to be found. In fact there were no marks at all.

No Mark at all…

Draco's breathing once again turned ragged as his knees gave out on him. He fell hard to the floor, nearly hitting his head on a dining room chair. But none of this mattered. All that mattered was that he didn't blink, for he feared if he did the cursed skull shaped Dark Mark would reappear on his blank arm.

"It's gone," he gasped, touching his arm gently and staring at his new skin in disbelief. "It's really gone!"

Draco was suddenly aware that Astoria once again kneeled beside him, a soaked rag in hand as she lightly dabbed at his enflamed arm. The rest of the pain went away, as did the red blotches due to stress. All that was left was his own pale white skin.

"You did this," he whispered in realization. "You…how?"

"What did you think my potion was for, silly?" she asked, studying his arm closely.

"Your…your potion?" he inquired, still shaking in stress and confusion.

"It was all your idea, really," she continued off handedly. "Remember? You said "what I wouldn't give to wipe that bloody cursed scar off his forehead". I was simply coming up with the means."

"Merlin!" he moaned, remembering the first time he had sat in this flat, complaining about Potter being in the paper.

"I fear it may not be as potent as I'd like it to be. It still won't clear off, say, Werewolf scars, but medium curses should be tackled well," she continued.

"Not potent!" he cried, his eyes bulging. "Astoria, you just wiped off a cursed mark made by one of the most powerful wizards of all time! People have spent decades trying to do that!"

Astoria shook her hair and finally met his eye. Draco once again felt his heart sink into his stomach. Though she smiled coyly her eyes still stung red from painful tears, and a thin gash adorned her cheek now smeared with her own blood. He was suddenly consciously aware of the blow he had given her and the thick Malfoy crested ring that lay on his offensive hand.

"Voldermort may have been a very powerful wizard when he was alive, but he wasn't a very thoughtful one," she explained. "Curses and hexes are very complex and specific forms of magic. If the maker wants them to continue after his death he needs to compensate for that, which is done easily enough. Only nearly every curse or charm that Voldermort had made has been lifted because he never bothered to do that. He never thought he would die, so he didn't waste his time strengthening his work to survive after him. I therefore surmised that his Dark Marks, though permanent while he lived, could be removed with a little creativity after his death. I have always been good at removing skin blemishes after Snape left me with a genetic predisposition to oily skin and a rare allergy to Mandrakes, so I figured it wouldn't be too much of a stretch for me."

Draco stared at the grinning woman in front of him, completely floored by her explanation and her action.

"You're telling me," he stated slowly, trying to wrap his mind around the situation, "that you found a cure for the Dark Mark based off an observational hunch and your acne cream?"

"Well, cursed scars in general. This batch was made for the Dark Mark in mind but in theory should work for others. Still, pretty cool, eh?"

"Pretty cool? Astoria this is a-fucking-mazing!" he cried, straitening his posture and clutching her arms firmly. "Do you realize how big of a deal this is? How famous you'll become? How _rich?"_

"The thought had crossed my mind, yes," she replied simply, slumping back.

"Astoria, this is great! Go get a patent on your potion! Start selling it, get published!" he shouted happily.

"I would," she explained in a slow calm, "but that was the last of it."

"So make more!" he decreed. "This is going to save us, Azzy! Make it again!"

"I can't," she stated solemnly, holding back her tears at the entire situation. Draco stared at her, his smile fading from his face as he noticed her struggle.

"What do you mean you can't make more?" he asked, his tone much more docile.

"I mean I messed it up," she admitted, her raspy voice all the more horse as she talked. "I'm not sure if I botched up a step on the way or if it's just missing something I haven't thought of but the batch wasn't stable. The potion is meant to eradicate Dark magic by taking on the properties of the regular molecules around it and replacing the infected ones. But when I put in the last ingredient I thought I would need the potion just started evaporating, taking on the molecules of the cauldron or the air on top. It can't be contained. I was only able to salvage a vial-full by casting a freezing spell on it. That's why I had to break the vial over your arm, so your skin would be the first thing it came into contact with. I had planned on running tests on it, seeing if I could add something to make it stable, but…"

"But you used all of it on me," he finished, staring at his arm in a slight horror. "Astoria, why? You've been working on this for ages! This is your dream! You were obviously so close, I'm sure you could have found something to make it stable. Why did you go and waste it on me?"

"Because you needed it more than I did," she said simply, rubbing his clean arm with a gentle affection. "You are not a Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. Not anymore. And if I possessed a way to help show someone that in an instant when that is what you needed, how could I not?"

Draco felt a complete loss for words at that simple admission. She had set aside her own dreams for his, sacrificed her successes to correct his mistakes. She had thrown away the biggest contribution an eighteen year old girl could give to the post-War community to help him peddle a silly powder.

"I mean it's not like I'm done with my potion," she continued frantically, speaking through the silence he let sit. "I just have to wait for conditions to be right again to start brewing. I'll go through again step-by-step and figure out what I did wrong. It's no big deal, really…"

Astoria was cut off as Draco lightly put his finger against her lips. She swallowed her rambling words as he moved his hand to her cheek, lightly stroking the bloodied scratch that still burned prominently.

"I hit you," Draco stated simply, though the sentence dripped with shame.

"It's okay," she replied lightly, placing her hand on top of his. "I did kind of attack you and put you through the worst physical pain possible. That was a rather wretched and cunty thing to do."

Though Draco exhaled a silent laugh his eyes pooled heavily with intensity. He stared at her for a moment, searching about her face as though he were lost and desperate for her familiarity. Her heart clenched at that look and she prayed no tears spilled down his face, for if they did she was quite certain she would lose it completely. Luckily Draco quickly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in and crushing her into his chest before she had to see such a thing.

"Astoria, I…" Draco stuttered, choking on his words as he stroked her hair. "I can't even begin…I mean you…for me…I…"

"You're so sexy when you're this articulate," Astoria cut in with a grin, slicing through the tension. Draco let out another quiet laugh, beaming down at her brightly as she looked up at him. He wiped at his eyes quickly, clearing out his throat in an embarrassed manner before releasing one of his rare but pure smiles.

"I feel stupid for saying this now," he began, speaking to her so seriously she couldn't help but perk up in anticipation. "Actually, I feel even worse that I _haven't_ said this before now…"

As Draco trailed on his words Astoria lost her breath, preparing herself to hear the phrase she had always disdained from the man she longed to hear it from.

"Astoria, I love…"

KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!

"Ford!" Draco ended, his head jerking towards the rapt upon door.

"Excuse me?" Astoria replied in a flat and disdainful tone.

"Ford, he's here," Draco explained, the passionate emotion drained from his manner as he was sharply brought back to reality. "I told him to meet up with me here so we could go to the meeting together."

Draco's eyes caught hers once more, and though they no longer held inflections of horror or uncontainable passion, they still showed a shadow of remorse and uncertainty.

"Well then you better get a move on," Astoria replied with a sacrificial smile. "Today is one of the biggest days of your life."

"Right," he agreed, scrambling to his feet before pulling her up off the floor. He took a deep breath, looking around the flat hopelessly as he tried to keep from shaking.

"So I guess I need my…erm…"

"Papers," Astoria interjected, walking to the kitchen table and placing them delicately in his briefcase.

"Yes, those would be good," he stated weakly. Astoria returned to him, placing his briefcase at his feet. She gently smoothed out his frazzled hair until it fell back into place, tightened his tie so it lay professionally across his pounding chest, and then turned her attention to the sleeves of his crisp white dress shirt.

"You know what you need to do," she stated assuredly, rolling up his cuffs so his clean forearms were bare. "You were born to worm your way into things."

Suddenly snapping to, Draco watched her roll up his sleeves intently. He was ready to act as soon as she looked up at him with a smile. He grabbed her face, ignoring the hesitant knocks at their front door as he wrapped her into a spellbinding kiss.

"Astoria," he muttered darkly, causing a shiver to spill down her spine, "you are the most brilliant creature I have ever met. I'm not sure what I did to deserve you."

"I think we do a fairly good job handling one another," she replied, looking down at their feet. Draco laughed, grabbing her hands and tugging on them to return her attention.

"Look, no matter what happens to me tonight, good or bad, we're going to celebrate," Draco exclaimed happily. "And not my deal or your potion, but us. Just us."

Astoria nodded happily, once again pulling him into another kiss. She laughed as Draco's hands slid down her side, stopping where her shirt met her sleep pants as though he meant to slide both off.

"Draco, you better go before Ford knocks our door down," she suggested, biting her lip as he started going at her neck.

"He can wait," he insisted. "I'll just tell him he got the time wrong. He'll believe me."

"Yes, but _he_ can't wait," she reminded, jerking her head down the direction of the Alley. Draco scowled.

"I can't believe it's come to this," Draco sneered, shaking his head as he picked up his briefcase. "Irony has become a four letter word today."

"Isn't it always?" she inquired, placing a final kiss on his cheek before sending him off to the door.

"I suppose," he muttered, reaching the door handle and opening it quickly. Ford looked more than relieved to finally be heard, and started a grand motion to come inside as though welcomed. Draco grabbed his arm and spun him outside, desiring no such thing.

"Bye, Astoria," he called out behind him.

"Good luck!" she replied as the door was closed. Her smile faded as she was left alone in their flat, with no potion to work on or anything in particular to do.

Except, she contested fitfully, to say one more thing.

"I love you too, Draco."

* * *

"I'm nervous, are you nervous?" Ford rambled as they made their way to the back entrance of the reputable shop. "I mean, I'm excited of course, but also very nervous. I hope we can remember everything and that he likes us. You think he'll like us? I'm nervous, can you tell I'm nervous?"

"Ford," Draco said sternly as they stood in front of the office stoop.

"Yes, Draco?" he asked hopefully.

"Shut it," he demanded, before knocking decisively on the door. Moments later it was opened by the store's owner, a coy smile plastered on his freckled face.

"You must be my 11:30," he greeted, at first only seeing the overly energetic inventor. "I'm George Weasley, come in."

"We'd love to," Draco answered, stepping into the Weasley's line of sight. The redhead's smile instantly flashed into a snarl of fury.

"You!" he growled ferociously, grabbing at his wand. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Like you said," Draco replied, keeping his cool, "we're your 11:30."

"Like hell you are!" Weasley cried in outrage, motioning to slam the door shut. Draco moved quickly, blocking the door with his arm right at eye level for the tall store owner.

"I think," Draco continued calmly, suppressing his smirk as the Weasley's eyes widened in surprise at his clean arm, "that you might be very interested in what we have to say."

* * *

Ford could barely contain his anticipation as Mr. Weasley inspected the powdered items silently. Like Draco he too had to wear the Muggle Specs to see the changes, but this time they were a sleek and stylish pair instead of a banged up hand-me-down. The remodeling had been one of Draco's ideas. After Ford explained to him the process on how they worked the young man went off and perfected the charm on some fashion glasses. Ford had never thought of such a thing, but Draco felt they could patent and produce a whole line of them to go along with the powder.

Draco had plenty of good ideas like that. The young Malfoy had planned out tons of additions to the powder, plans that they had already started developing. Plans, however, that were completely contingent upon George Weasley's endorsement.

The butterflies in Ford's stomach swarmed mercilessly as the store owner continued to appraise the effects of the powder. He wanted nothing more than to break the silence and hurriedly ask what he thought about it, if he intended to buy. It took all he had to refrain from such an outburst, and even then he relied on the strength of his young partner. Draco watched the situation coolly, his face stoic and passive though his grey eyes never strayed from the Weasley. Ford marveled at Draco's ability to project such a nonchalant manner at such a pinnacle time, especially since he had invested all of his money into this one moment. It was then that Ford noticed the first hints of sunken lines around his partner's eyes, and he was suddenly hit with the realization that his wasn't the only future ridding on this decision.

"This," George Weasley finally proclaimed, taking off the glasses and marveling at the simple cauldron, "is bloody brilliant."

"Yes!" Ford exclaimed, clapping in elation. He quieted down instantly with a single warning look from his partner.

"Honestly, Mr. Wilkinson, this is an amazing and revolutionary idea," Weasley continued, praising him with a grin.

"Thank you, sir," Ford returned happily.

"What I don't understand, however," he continued, the lightness falling out of his voice, "is where _he_ comes into all of this."

Ford watched Weasley turn, a look of glowering intensity formed on his face as he stared at Draco.

"What the hell are you doing supporting a product like this?" he demanded. "What's your angle?"

"Ninety degrees," Draco replied without missing a beat. "In other words a right one."

George Weasley snorted at the flippant answer, though Ford couldn't help but notice the momentary flicker of his smile. It was almost as though despite the stringent atmosphere the store owner couldn't help but appreciate a good joke.

"Look," he stated, changing his tactics back to Ford. "I love this powder, I truly do. And I'd sell it for you in a heartbeat. But I cannot in all good conscious enter into any dealing that helps this monster."

George shot Draco another seething look before facing Ford solemnly. Draco continued to remain silent and unmoving.

"I'm sorry, I truly am."

"Wait!" Ford said frantically. "There must be something we can do!"

"He's right, Ford," Draco interjected, stepping behind his partner calmly. "It's his prerogative to feel the way he does. If he feels, in all good consciousness, that he cannot do something that helps me then there is obviously no convincing him. Except…"

Draco let his last word dangle, smirking lightly at the Weasley as if in a dare.

"Except what?" Ford asked, breaking the silence when it appeared the store owner was refraining from doing it on his own.

"Except I always pegged you as someone deeper, someone who thought on a larger scale," Draco continued, speaking as though George had asked the question himself.

"What are you babbling about?" Weasley demanded, squashing his hint of interest with his enormous dislike.

"Do you have any idea what this will do to me if you sell this?" Draco poised.

"It will make you lots of money," George spat obviously.

"Maybe it will, maybe it won't, investment is a tricky thing," Draco shrugged. "But I'll tell you what it will do. It will forever connect me with the largest commercial product with the single intention of creating more Wizard/Muggle relationships. Magical children will grow up playing with Muggles without fear of revealing who they are. Property owners will reveal their houses in order to be invited to their Muggle neighbor's Christmas party. And how much magical blood do you think will be mixed when more witches and wizards are able to fall in love with Muggles?"

"And all of that just sounds remarkably terrible," George replied sarcastically.

"For my society it is about the worst thing imaginable. Pureblood families are already in danger. In a few generations they'll be nonexistent if this goes public. Making me the biggest and most devastating Blood Traitor of all time."

George stared at him oddly for a moment, not quite sure what to make of such a statement.

"And why on earth would you of all people do that?" he commanded, staring cautiously.

"For the only two reasons anyone does anything," Draco replied simply. "For money…and for love."

"Love!" George spat irately. "What the hell do you know about love?"

"But he is in love!" Ford piped in quickly. "With a very beautiful, albeit a bit scary woman…"

"Yeah, I've seen you traipsing the Alley with her," George interjected. "That Greengrass girl, a _Pureblood_."

Draco couldn't help but chuckle at the statement, unfortunately infuriating the redhead further.

"So now you're trying to dictate who I can fall in love with? That's a bit restrictive of you…"

"What I'm saying is I trust you about as far as a Skrewt can fly," he snapped, turning quickly back over to Ford.

"This is such a great product, anyone could have helped you invest. Why on earth did you choose him?" George pleaded.

"He was the only one who would help me!" Ford exclaimed. "I never would have gotten this far without him. The powder would just be collecting dust in my office if he hadn't come along. I can't network, develop, manage, invest…hell I'm lucky if I walk out of the house with a right and left shoe on in the morning, let alone them being on the proper foot. If it weren't for his management, direction and generosity my family and I would be out on the street."

"So he took advantage of you!" George proclaimed.

"He saved me!" Ford urged. "I'm a terrible credit risk but he took a chance on me, placed everything he had on me. I owe him everything and will never be ashamed of that fact."

Ford caught Draco's eye and watched as the young man's lips parted in surprise. He watched the Malfoy struggle to remain stoic at such genuine praise, collecting himself just as George turned to confront him again.

"You're a criminal," he stated through a growl.

"I've paid my debt to society," Draco reminded just as irately.

"Far too small a price if you ask me!"

"Well lucky for me the Wizengamot doesn't subscribe to your opinion!"

"Stop it!" Ford demanded, stepping in between the two of them. "This is bigger than your disagreements, bigger than all of us. This could enrich the lives of so many people! How can we deny that of them just because of our personal pasts?"

Ford's question seemed to hush Mr. Weasley's retort and he sat back in silence once more. He faced Draco, looking him up and down thoroughly, his personal struggle clear on his face.

"There is something different about you now, I'll give you that much," George admitted.

"Yeah, well losing everything you have tends to have that effect on a person," Draco muttered bitterly.

"No, it's not just that," George continued, his eyes narrowing to his blank forearm. "And it's not even that, however you did it. It's something…more."

"I suppose that could be accurate," Draco replied, the discomfort he felt clearly showcased in his body and facial movements.

"How am I supposed to trust you?" George asked seriously.

"Well that's the beauty of the vendor/seller relationship," Draco answered, finally relieved. "You don't have to. If my company or I start doing something you don't like then you just boycott my products. Everyone loves you. If you stop selling the world will stop buying."

"You and your company, eh?" George replied in a master stall. "And what is said company called? Malfoy Manipulators Incorporated?"

"No," Draco answered quickly, a name coming to him out of the blue. "Cavalier Enterprises: A Venture Capitalist Investment Firm."

"Cavalier Enterprises," George scoffed, though he was unable to fully sell his distaste for the name. "You know, I don't think you can refer to just yourself as a firm."

"Details," Draco countered with a shrug. "So, what do you say? We have a deal?"

George Weasley caught his breath as Draco Malfoy held out his hand, forcing him to weigh his options as his mind, heart, and soul all spilt themselves on their decision like a Horocrux.

* * *

"I can't believe it!" Ford cried as they spilled out of the shop and into the Alley. "We did it! We fucking did it!"

Draco could barely decipher Ford's exclamations as he breathed for the first time that day. It had happened. Negotiations still had to be made, and thousands of other things needed to be done from advertisements to actually and legally starting Cavalier Enterprises, but that was all easily accomplished. He had somehow managed to win over George Weasley of all people to sell his product. After that he could do anything.

"Draco, we're going to make it! All our hard work and prep!" Ford continued to exclaim in unrestrained joy. Draco couldn't help but be infected with his happiness and broke out into his own smile. It was due to this sickness he blamed his next move. He willingly opened his arms and embraced Ford in excitement. Quickly gathering his wits, he immediately pulled away and straightened himself out coldly.

"Let's celebrate!" Ford suggested happily. "Come on, first round on me!"

"I shouldn't," Draco replied cautiously, remembering his promise to Astoria.

"Awe, come on! This is a huge day for us! One drink won't hurt!" Ford pressured.

"You're right," Draco conceded with a smile. "One drink, for us!"

* * *

Astoria sat staring at the table as the last candle in the flat flickered weakly. Without a potion to work on and the Reference Desk closed for remodeling there hadn't been much for her to do that day. She busily went about the flat, tidying up as she crafted a five layer chocolate cake for Draco, either to be eaten in congratulations or condolence. When he failed to show up late in the afternoon she assumed they would go out in celebration, so she meticulously curled her hair and pressed her best dress. When dinnertime passed she started to get angry, but she pushed such feelings aside. Today was not about her. It was about them, like he said. He wouldn't be kept by anything that wasn't important.

So she lined the flat with candles, changed into some lingerie and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

It was only with the final flicks of the candle and half the cake eaten that she finally gave up. She blew out the candle and walked exhausted to their cold and empty bed.

"I guess this means things went well," she stated to no one. "I should probably just get used to this."


	23. The End

The End

Astoria burst out of the confines of her steaming shower and into her bedroom without bothering to towel off. While initially and usually a hot bath had been the cure for a groggy starting morning, the activity only perpetuated her discomfort. Her head spun in circles as her breath caught in her lungs. Her stomach flipped as rolls of nausea hit her repeatedly, and she had to cover her mouth as she began to wretch. She gained some relief as she collapsed on to the bed as she ceased to be so dizzy, and she was able to use her hand to wipe away the tears of distress that squeezed out of her shut eyes.

Unfortunately this was not the first occurrence of such a spell. She had been battling a rather stubborn strain of flu for over a month that seemed impervious to any curing potion she threw at it. This failure to treat herself was the most wounding aspect of her situation, as it spat in the face of her abilities as a great potions master.

_It's not like any of the potions you've been brewing have been any good lately,_ she reminded herself snidely, prying herself up off the bed.

She waved her wand over the sheets to dry them as she stepped towards her closet to dress. She was met with her usual array of alluring and powerful outfits she had collected since living on her own. After glancing them all over she shook her head, and instead simply donned her wrinkled sleep pants and one of Draco's old shirts that she went to bed in.

_Not like you have anywhere to be today, Astoria_.

After a deep breath and feeling confident that she could walk without passing out she quit her bedroom and went to the living room. There she found Draco, checking himself in the mirror hung above the long wooden buffet. He wore his newest suit: sleek, black and extremely powerful looking. And, most importantly, expensive. With Caviler Enterprises on the rise and growing larger everyday Draco insisted that the suit look as such. As she stared at him she was caught between a warm smile at how handsome he looked and an innate jealousy from what the suit represented.

She decided to express the former for prosperity.

"Oh good, you're up," he greeted, catching her reflection in the mirror. "What do you think?"

"You look great," she replied simply. "Very empowering."

"Excellent," he stated, before looking her up and down. "You still sick?"

"What else is new?" she grumbled, sitting down at the kitchen table in exhaustion.

"Well that won't do," he expressed, marching to the kitchen to pour her a glass of orange juice. She smiled gratefully at the gesture and was about to thank him for it when he spoke first.

"We need you good and healthy for the dinner tomorrow night," he continued, moving on quickly to her old desk covered in his papers.

"Dinner?" she repeated in confusion, taking a deep breath to combat another roll of nausea.

"Yes, you know, the one with the very wealthy potential shareholders," he explained. "I'm sure I told you that. I need you to be your sexy vivacious self to make me look all the better."

He kissed the top of her disheveled head quickly as he walked back into the kitchen to pour himself more tea.

"We need to be impressive so I said we'd bring dessert. I told them you'd make that minty thing you made a couple of weeks ago that was so amazing."

"Peppermint meringue cake?" she inquired, her mouth dropping slightly. "That was completely from scratch! It takes two days to make!"

"You've got just enough time, don't you?" he asked, checking his watch and grimacing. "Merlin, something I don't! I have to go meet with the new advertising firm in twenty minutes, then have lunch with that author I found who wants to write the _Wizard's Guide to Muggles_ that I came up with to help better explain the products. Then I have to bounce around about a dozen stores to see how we're selling and interview some new clients who want me to invest in them."

"Sounds like an exciting day," Astoria said lightly, wishing she could say the same for herself.

"You don't know the half of it," he replied, sliding on his new cloak. "But hey I have some time off this weekend, why don't we go to London and look at some townhomes or penthouses in some of the chic neighborhoods, eh?"

"You're thinking of moving?" she asked, once again caught off guard.

"Of course," he answered flippantly. "With all of the money I'm starting to make why should we keep living in this dump? We'll get a nice stylish little residence close to the business district and near all those shops you like. How does that sound?"

"Great," she responded half-heartedly, picking herself up out of her seat. "I guess I should get my recipe book out of the buffet drawer."

"I got it!" Draco said loudly, quickly rushing over and blocking her view. If she hadn't been hit with another wave of sickness upon standing she would have been more curious to his hurried action and the sound of papers being deliberately shuffled as if hiding something. As it was Astoria didn't notice much of anything until Draco put her cook book in front of her.

"Here you are!" he said brightly, placing another kiss on her head. "Now I really must be off. Feel better, bake well, and wish me luck! I won't be home until late so don't bother waiting up for me. Ciao!"

"Bye," she called out lightly to the sound of a shutting door. Sighing Astoria flipped open the cook book to the complicated and tedious recipe for the chosen cake. She had made it a few weeks earlier, desperate for something to do and finding the most time consuming dish she had. It had been fun originally, and she and Draco loved eating it. But the thought of making it again so soon and in her condition brought her no pleasure. It took her thirty minutes just to lay out the ingredients for the syrup, chocolate buttercream, the meringue and the cake, all the while washing enough dishes to hold it all.

A strong sense of remorse struck her as she started mixing sugars and extract together. She missed potion brewing immensely. She pinned for the days when she spent hours poring over her cauldron and greenhouse, carefully selecting and preparing ingredients for her project. Her current venture, though requiring skill and art, left her with no such fulfillment.

In fact nothing in the past two months had left her fulfilled. She felt incomplete without something to work on. She spent every spare moment she had (and she had collected a lot of them) going over scores of books in the library, trying to think of what she could do to perfect her potion. But the Library of the Ministry, the largest collection of books in the Eastern Hemisphere, had failed her. The direction of her work was unique in and of itself and there seemed to be no generic solution to her containment issue. She felt so lost, so stuck, so unable to continue that recently she had ceased trying. There seemed nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to, nothing else to do. The only thing that made her feel of any kind of use was Draco's requests of her. Keeping his appointments in order, making sure his clothes remained tidy, nourishing him and doing whatever she could to relieve his stress including the more than occasional unsatisfying shag seemed to be her only purposeful functions as of late.

She was proud of Draco and happy to support him in his success, but she couldn't help but contrast his rise to her fall.

The heat from the oven hitting her violently, she quickly escaped the kitchen and ran to the couch. She plopped down on the sofa on the corner usually occupied by Draco. As always she seemed to not quite fit on her own couch pillow. But there was something else she felt, a crinkling, as though something were crammed underneath.

Her curiosity overwhelming her illness she reached down and felt some crumpled parchment. After extracting it from its recesses she smoothed it out and was faced with a familiar article.

_Weakness and Limitations to the Essence of Dittany_

_By Severus Snape_

It was the article she had carried around for months when she had started to form her potion, the one she had read countless times until she practically knew it word for word. It had been an inspiration, a source of ideas, and an odd connection to her biological father.

And now, suddenly, it had invoked a blocked out memory…

_It took all of Astoria's self-control not to curse out her mother as she dragged her away from her summer reading. _It infuriated her how much her mother didn't care about the fact that her OWLs had to be rescheduled for July because of the Battle, and that her whole fifth year had been spent taught with her professors either being extremely censored or by people who were complete idiots. Astoria intended to spend her first summer weeks doing nothing but studying to overcome such a handicap, and had refused to leave her room since she had returned for the holidays.

But her mother had finally forced her way in, a look of rage and terror set into her face the girl of almost sixteen years had never seen. Phoebe dragged her daughter into the Drawing Room, locking all doors and casting silencing charms so no one outside could overhear them. Astoria was pushed on to the couch against her will, forced to sit next to her mother and across from the bland and wispy figure of Garfield Garber.

Better known as the Greengrass family lawyer.

"What the hell is this all about?" Astoria demanded, crossing her boney arms across her chest.

"Be quiet!" Phoebe demanded, in a tone that expressed that Astoria was deeply at fault for whatever was about to pass.

"This is about a rather delicate inheritance surrounding you," Mr. Garber began to explain.

"Look, Mother, I hate to burst your bubble but Helios isn't going to die anytime soon," Astoria interjected rudely. "He's going to keep on living just to spite you and won't let you see the will until he's gone and buried in the ground so he doesn't have to hear you bitch about it. Now I have more important things to do…"

"Be quiet, you wretched girl!" Phoebe expressed shrilly.

"This inheritance is not from Helios Greengrass, who despite age and weight continues to be in excellent health," Mr. Garber explained. "It is from another party entirely."

Slightly intrigued Astoria remained quiet, doing nothing but raising her eyebrow slightly to express any form of interest.

"I received a folder concerning you in the beginning of the summer, something very troubling. I tried to do some research into why or how the young Miss Greengrass became involved into such affairs, as I was trying to save the family from any kind of…embarrassment. Unfortunately I was unable to dig too deeply without arousing suspicion, and am now legally bound to present such findings," Garber said.

"Yes, I knew all of this already!" Phoebe stated in irritation. "But you haven't said what was so troubling!"

"It seems Miss Greengrass has inherited the estate and all of the possessions…of a Mr. Severus Snape."

Astoria's mouth dropped. She had spent the last four weeks trying not to think about the fact that Snape was dead. Their intimate interactions over the years had been few, yet strangely profound. Their last meeting, mere hours before the Battle took place, had been especially meaningful, almost sentimental. But Astoria had hardly had more than two moments to reflect upon the meaning of their final conversation when it had been discovered that Severus Snape had been murdered. She had immediately shut out all feelings on the matter, determined to pretend that nothing had changed or better yet that he had never existed.

But this? This was completely unexpected. She never anticipated that he thought of her in any endearing light, if he thought of her at all. She had heard from the Potter interviews that Snape's last memories were of Lily Evans, Potter's mother. That fact had wounded her in an unexplainable way, and helped her push him out of her mind. But now? Now she could hardly contain her sorrow as she realized that the man who sired her, who had been the Head of her House for most of her school years, who had taught her nearly everything she knew about potions, and, despite neither of them wanting it, the man who had been the most influential parent in her life, was dead.

But now was not the time to mourn such a loss. Not in front her mother who looked fitfully outraged, and the lawyer who just wanted to be told what to do without any personal interest in the matter.

"I…I have no idea…I mean…well, he and Astoria were close, weren't you dear?" Phoebe asked, turning to her sweetly. A seed of rage dropped into her stomach at the comment. "I mean she was the best at potions in her class. She even won an award, didn't you sweetie?"

"I'm afraid that's not really very convincing," Mr. Garber replied dryly. "Snape, though usually favoring his Slytherin students, isn't really known for being so giving. Especially to one who is so young and so female. Though a private man, it would still be expected that he give his estate to a friend or colleague, or a family member or lover."

"Erm…yes. Well, Astoria you and Professor Snape were _very _close. Isn't that what you told me, love?" her mother insisted, pleading suggestively. Astoria began to shake with rage at her mother's ploy to cover her own ass. Completely consumed in dramatic anger Astoria rose, staring at the two adults who now seemed to fear her next move.

"You're right, _Mother_, how could I forget? We were _really_ close!" she exclaimed before turning to face the lawyer. "Professor Snape used to fuck me. A lot. I gave it to him every day in exchange for good grades and money. That's what you were talking about, right?"

Garber's usually unflappable countenance morphed into a look of shock. Phoebe seemed unable to speak, either from having no response or from shame. Astoria didn't care. She ripped the quill out of Garber's pocket and signed the release accepting the estate. She then took the contract, tossed it in the fire and burst out of the room, intending to never think of this interaction again.

* * *

Astoria walked cautiously through the dingy Muggle street, stepping lightly as though afraid a wrong move would bring about disastrous results. Despite it being the middle of the day the neighborhood showed no signs of life. The only other movement on the block was the ominous swinging of an old faded shop sign, which creaked and swayed even though the wind was dead.

Her heart pounded with every step she took, uncertainty and doubt mixing in poorly with her lurching stomach and swirling head. There were many reasons why she shouldn't be where she was. She was sick and an intense activity such as she was pursuing was sure to overwhelm her and distress her further. She was running out of time to prepare the cake and if she didn't return soon it wouldn't be ready for Draco's dinner. And there was something else, something deep inside her that seemed to be pleading with her to go home and not do what she planned to do. It was an internal feeling she had never had before, and for a moment she toyed with the idea of listening to what her body was trying to say.

But a moment was all she gave. Her impetuous reasoning which had guided her through life demanded she push forward, dictating that her future depended on it. This could be her last hope, a place for countless answers she had never thought to ask, and a pinnacle instance that would help explain a part of her past that had always been hidden from her.

She stared down the entrance of Spinner's End, took a single deep breath, and turned the door knob decisively.

It opened.

Astoria stared at the dark chamber hesitantly. She had been half certain that she wouldn't have been able to make it this far. Surely she hadn't actually inherited this place, or in her continued and record-less absence the Ministry had taken hold of the substantial figure's address. But the shabby house recognized its master in spite of everything and called her in. She took another deep breath, giving a final audience to the new voice inside of her asking her to turn away before stepping inside.

The room was dark, dingy and smelled like rot and neglect. She cast the light spell to get a better look and saw the scenery added nothing to the contrary. The floor was padded in a layer of dust and grime. The threadbare furniture looked as if it might collapse if you looked at it too hard, and she could tell with a glance that the single lamp in the room was useless.

But none of this is what mattered. What did matter were the four walls filled with countless volumes of books. Astoria stepped forward greedily to read the titles and found herself overwhelmed. The collection was filled with rare and ancient books on potions, some written in Ancient Runes which she could half translate, others inscribed in languages she had never even seen. One shelf held a containment spell that housed bound parchment that was easily over a millennium old.

Tears rolled down her cheek without restraint at her newly discovered treasure. She now possessed an entire library dedicated to rare plants, complex potions and powerful magic that surpassed anything held at the Library of the Ministry. Snape's own work had been profound, though limited due to his Professor duties and obligations to his masters. She felt certain that the answer to her potion was hidden here somewhere, and that ignited an excitement and passion in her that had lain dormant in past months.

She continued to suppress the cramping in her abdomen and the spinning in her head as she desired to discover more. Though a part of her wanted to attack the scores of books she knew she was in no fit state to read. She was excited, and wanted to see what else the house had to offer her.

She spied a closed oak door and was immediately drawn to it. When she reached it however she realized it contained the source of the rotting smell. Her stomach did another turn and she found herself almost passing out from the stench. But she pushed forward regardless, driven by her pressing determination.

The cause of the smell was obvious upon first glance. The floor was littered with rotten carcasses covered in shattered glass. Like his office at Hogwarts it seemed he chose to decorate his workspace at home with floating jars containing nefarious looking objects. It seemed his death had caused the jars to fall, giving the inhabitants three years to decompose before her visit.

With another wave of her wand she took care of the horrid stench. Feeling certain that there was no spell in her possession strong enough to eradicate the odor, she simply removed her sense of smell.

That being taken care of she was able to investigate further. The room was smaller than the last, though its walls too were covered in books. A large ancient looking desk sat in the middle and Astoria recognized it instantly. It was the same desk Snape had had in his office at school. She knew that for a fact as she had spent many hours staring at it seething when she couldn't stand to look the man in the face.

After giving it another go over she determined it must be a Switching Desk. Like Vanishing Cabinets, Switching Desks came in pairs. You could have one at work and one at your home. Anything you put in one Desk drawer could be found in the counterpart of the other, eradicating the need to bring a briefcase to work or having to make trips home because you left a file.

She stared at it hesitantly. Something about going through his desk seemed oddly personal and intimate. He had been dead for three years sure, and yes he had given everything to her, but knowing Snape the way she did made her feel like searching through this piece of his life was more invasive than a pensive.

Yet still she was drawn to it, and she allowed her driving greed and curiosity press her further. She walked around the perimeter slowly, fingering the chipped wood that framed the edges. She tested out the frail and uncomfortable looking chair before sitting in it. Something about this whole venture seemed wrong, and a foreboding sense inside her told her to leave and return to her life at home. But Astoria was in no mind to be told what to do by anyone, including herself, and she popped open the first drawer.

What she saw first made her furrow her brow. Documents entrusted to the Headmaster of Hogwarts stared back at her. This was definitely not the ornate desk of the Headmaster, but as she continued her search she had to contend that he had enchanted the desk of his final year to send his documents home. It made sense, she supposed, especially if he was worried about someone going through his desk at school.

She continued to search through to find something of interest. Student files, staff meeting transcripts and receipts from the Three Broomsticks made up the bulk of the desks' items. There was nothing of his own work that seemed to be present, no personal letters of any kind, not from Voldermort, not from Dumbledore, not from anyone.

Frustrated, Astoria slammed the drawer shut, disappointed that the desk did not offer more as surely Snape had had a reason for switching enchantments. Her attention however was quickly drawn to something else. The slamming of the drawer seemed to rattle some kind of panel in the desk's side. It was only visible for a second, but she was certain she saw a part of the desk shake independently from the rest. She fussed with the spot for a moment with her wand, but no spell she cast seemed to reveal anything hidden.

Disappointed she let out a sigh, about to give up when one more idea struck her. Surely it couldn't be so simple…but then again powerful and magic hungry wizards would never think of it…

She put her hand on the panel spot, felt the loose piece of wood, and simply slid it up to reveal a small hidden compartment.

_I guess having some Muggle ingenuity can come in handy, huh Severus?_ she thought to herself before exploring the hole further. The compartment held only one thing; another book, small and faded looking. Upon closer inspection she realized it was a journal of his. Without consulting the ominous feeling in her stomach she flipped it open, eager to see what potions work or magic he felt was so worth hiding from the world.

_September 1, 1993_

_I should have known this day would come. Of course I had heard the rumors that surrounded her and her mother, but I simply wrote them off as that. There was no way such a thing could be true. Up until tonight I had been certain that that shameful incident of nearly twelve years ago had been a wicked nightmare. _

_But then I saw her. I took one look at her inky black hair, her sullen skin tone, that square jaw and I was instantly consumed by a frozen terror. As she slowly approached the Sorting Hat I could clearly see the intense and angered expression on her face, probably cause by the incident on the train, and I somehow lost the ability to breathe. And then, as she sat perched on that stool, I found her staring right at me. Her eyes are large, sparked with intelligence, and so very, very green. They are somehow the same shape and color of Potter's eyes…as Her eyes…I don't know how such a thing is possible but I swear it's true. I saw all of this and I was filled with a poisonous irony. _

_This was the child I wanted to have with Lily. The one who looked just like her father aside from having eyes liker her mother. _

_I have never despised anything I have owned more, and that includes the Mark that lays on my arm. When the Hat proclaimed her to be in Slytherin House, my House, I have never hated my responsibilities like I do now._

_Phoebe named her Astoria Anathema, which fits her just fine, as she is my titan_ _curse. _

Astoria stared at the first entry in wonder. Is this what was so important for him to hide? A journal where he proclaimed how much he despised his bastard daughter? Anger filtered through her veins, and an insane urge to burn the miserable house to the ground surged within her. This feeling pushed past her failing health and even her curiosity. She flipped to the next page in ire, wanting only to read further so she could curse the man using more specific material.

_January 20__th__, 1994_

_I am ashamed, and I am weak. _

_Danger is leering ever closer. With Black on the lamb the Dark Lord has gained a powerful servant. Dumbledore is certain that unless he is stopped the looming essence of Lily's killer will return and quickly regain his full strength. Up until today I felt certain that I could play my role without fail, that I could assure the Dark Lord of my loyalty and be a prevailing spy for Dumbledore's side. With my position and skill in __Occlumency I would be indictable._

_But if an eleven year old girl can see through me I am doomed._

_I had no idea what to do with her when Weasley took her to my office. She was clearly upset over the whole thing, and never before had something so small looked so powerful when fueled with rage. In class she had always been rather quiet, only speaking to her classmates when they got in her way. I hear her temperament is no different in other classes or the Common Room. The other professors seem to like her in spite of her occasional attitude. She does well in all her classes and is favored to be the best in her year._

_I must admit that even I have been impressed with her. Her skill in potions is natural. She just gets it. She has already begun to see the flaws in the written instruction of the textbook and has started making her own corrections, something I didn't do until my Third Year…_

_I have been avoiding her. It sounds rather pathetic, but my shame and fear of the child has caused me to act as if she does not exist. After what happened tonight however I fear that will no longer be possible to do._

_I do not know what I had imagined her life to be like. I suppose I have never thought of it. She had been raised as a Pureblood in one of the wealthiest families in Britain. Like the other students in her social tier I would assume that she was doted on and spoiled by her parents, given everything she ever wanted and more to showcase how lavish the Greengrass family could be._

_But this is clearly not the case. In the few moments I stole from her when I lost control of my emotions I caught glimpses of a harsh and sad life. Though she doesn't seem to be physically abused there is strong evidence in her demeanor and backstory that suggests neglect and emotional strife. I can imagine there have been more than a few threats placed against her for penetrating the Pureblood inner circle .Phoebe seems to have spent the girl's life in fear of her shameful secret, which in turn has distracted her from what little maternal instinct she inherently possessed and gives the girl no comfort. The rumors about Helios are far reaching, but I certainly have no doubt he knows she is not his despite raising her as such. His complete lack of presence from any of her memories I am certain is not limited to that sample alone._

_She knew I was her father. I feel confident in stating that it was not Phoebe who told her .I have kept my ears pressed to the ground to hear if my name ever came up when others conjectured about her paternity. It never has. Even the ever knowledgeable Dumbledore has made no allusions to the child, and he has always been keen on tying me to emotional attachment. But somehow she knew. And not only did she know but she managed to push herself into my thoughts and memories, memories I have spent over twelve years trying to forget._

_I hurt her. I was furious, murderous even for her invasion, but when I saw that I had knocked her down, caused her to bleed, I felt so…_

_I do not fear her blackmail, for somehow I know she will take this incident to her grave. What I fear is the nagging feeling this interaction has sparked. I cannot stop thinking of her and what I have learned. I can no longer ignore the past or deny that I have some sort of responsibility to her. Lily would never forgive me for the way I have acted towards the child…my child. _

_Astoria hates me, and for this she has more than every right. But I can no longer claim to feel the same, and I have embraced the notion that I must be something towards her besides cold, neglectful and hurtful. She already has two parents to do that to her._

_She looks just like me when she's angry._

Astoria retracted from the journal and slumped back further in the uncomfortable chair. She reread the thought-flowing entry another time before daring to analyze it. The incident in the Potions Office had spurned her years of active hate towards him. She had felt defiled and abused by it, and in turn spent the next four and a half years despising him. But to him it seemed that night had stirred some sort of… paternal instinct towards her. He had even referred to her as his child.

A wave of pain and nausea crashed through her at the thought, and she had to close her eyes to clear her mind. She had spent most of her life thinking he loathed her, cursed her very existence. But, when she sat back and reexamined things a bit, she received a sinking feeling that she may have been blinded by her own anger and missed actions to the contrary.

Shaking off a flash of heat she eagerly jumped back into the journal.

It was full of encounters or thoughts of her, and as she immersed herself into her father's mind everything else ceased to matter, including time and pain.

A few pages in she was surprised to find a sheet of parchment that was not congruent with Snape's handwriting, but her own. Her mouth dropped as she realized it was an old draft of her cleansing solution she had made at the end of her Second Year. On it Snape had made his own notes, correcting dosage amounts and adding the key ingredient of orange zest for the scent. As this sank in Astoria realized that throughout her Third Year in Potions she had perfected her cleansing potion to almost this exact specification, changing it after picking up these little hints he had managed to sprinkle throughout his lecture.

At the bottom of the page, in true Professor form, she found a single comment about her potion draft.

_Genius._

Astoria was startled a few minutes later when she came across a worn photo of the two of them. She picked it up and inspected it closely, the memory behind it coming at her fast.

It was the beginning of her Third Year, and she had been informed over the summer that she had won a Potion's Award for her outstanding performance in the subject and her perfect marks on her final exam. She couldn't help feeling proud at this achievement, though she wasn't about to show it. The only reason her mother even knew was because she would always open up her mail before giving it to her. Astoria assumed they would just give her a certificate and put a little plaque up in the Trophy Room. She was therefore very unhappy when she found herself face to face with her Potions Professor and a photographer.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, crossing her arms and sneering her best sneer.

"Commending you," he replied simply, though his face showed no more pleasure in it than her own.

"As you should!" the excited Seventh Year with the camera stated, watching them happily. "This is a pretty big deal to be given to a student so young! It's rare that someone gets it at all. In fact, weren't you the last one to receive it, Professor? Your Fourth Year, right?"

"Impressive, Mr. Rand. If only you used that power of observation in my lab I wouldn't have had to throw you out of my NEWT class for burning up your Extinguishing Potion now would I?" Snape snapped quickly.

Rand cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed, before hoisting up the camera to get the shot.

"Okay get closer…you know so you're both actually in the shot. Astoria why don't you hold up the certificate...or not, whatever is good for you. Professor, most teachers kind of put their hand on the student's shoulder, in a sort of proud or affectionate way…but then again why do what everyone else does, eh?"

"Will you just take the bloody picture so we can get on with our lives?" Astoria demanded, glaring at him harshly.

"Okay! One and done!" Rand pronounced, smart enough not to even ask them to smile. Astoria was ready to leave that very instant, when the boy who just couldn't keep his mouth shut lived up to his name.

"You know, I was going to say something about how cool it is that Astoria seemed to inherit so much of your skill as your student, Professor, but I think it's cooler that she managed to copy your exact leering impression. You two must spend an awful lot of time together, huh?"

"Mr. Rand," Snape said coolly, walking up to the student.

"Yes sir?" he asked brightly. Snape glared at him before snatching the camera off his neck.

"Detention," he finished up before exiting the room.

"What, why?" he asked.

"For getting on my last nerve after murdering the rest of them."

Astoria had never thought much about that incident, especially as Snape was fond of handing out dentitions. But now she realized how glad she was that Snape had done that. The picture of the two of them was never released, and it was a damn good thing it never was. For Rand was right, she and Snape wore the exact same mask of loathing and intensity on their faces. Their jaws were clenched in unison, and though their eyes glowed in different colors the message they delivered was the same.

This photo would have raised a lot of questions, especially with her already disputed paternity. It was dangerous to have around, and she was extremely perplexed that he had kept it instead of destroying it.

But at the same time she also knew why he did, and without hesitation she slipped the photo in her purse before continuing.

Time slipped passed her as she eagerly ate up her journal. Most of the passages were short, and he seemed to have wrote down anything he ever heard about her or seen her do. Most of this of course being the abrasive insults she doled out he often commented on her attitude. However she couldn't help but read a sense of pride for her quick wit and her ability to stand up for herself. One such incident he wrote about in full and Astoria couldn't help but smile as she relived the memory through his eyes.

_February 3__rd__, 1996_

_Today I experienced an anger I had never known. I have of course been enraged before. Potter, both father and son, have yet to fail to bring me to it. I feel it every summer when I am passed over the Defense Against the Dark Arts post. I am consumed by it when I think that I actually served and once admired Lily's murderer…_

_But this, this was different. The offense I felt today went beyond anything I am familiar with. I was descending one of the side staircases to the Great Hall on my afternoon rounds when it happened. I managed to glance over and see Astoria leaving the Hall after a late lunch, one of her textbooks held under her arm as she headed towards the library. I was briefly struck with the thought of how…beautiful…she was getting, when it started. _

_I saw that lewd Demetrius Vaisey creep up on her. Though a Sixth Year in my own House I never paid much mind to him. Average intelligence, arguably the worst of the Chasers on the Qudditch team, nothing about him was ever worth noticing. That is until I saw the look in his eyes as he stared at her as she walked by._

_With speed never shown on the pitch he knocked the book out of her arm as she passed. She immediately spun to face him, a look of ferocity in her eyes, when he started…groping her._

_I moved to dash down the stairs when the fucking thing moved, trapping me on a landing and leaving me nothing but an excellent viewpoint to watch. Vaisey grabbed her waist and slid his hand up her skirt, muttering to her who knows what as he did. A shaking rage consumed me as I watched him molest my daughter, and I removed my wand out of my pocket, possibly to stun him but it would be a lie to say the Killing Curse was not at the front of my mind._

_I stopped however when I saw Astoria skillfully pull away, rounding slightly so she was no longer as cornered as she had been, but still not in a position to run away. _

_"You want to see what's beneath my skirt, Vaisey?" she had asked him, her voice clam though dripping with danger._

_"Fuck yeah!" the leech responded, his vague eyes focused perversely at her legs. I caught a glimpse of her smirk before she approached him slowly. Then, without warning, she kicked out her leg and hit Vaisey square in the chest, pushing her pointed boot heel into his diaphragm violently as she did. Vaisey immediately began to scream and wriggle in pain; a sight and sound most satisfying._

_"I'd be more careful what I wish for," she threatened, continuing to keep the boy nearly twice her size pinned to the wall._

_I had begun to feel almost as satisfied as I would have torturing the fool myself, when suddenly Astoria's justice was stolen from her by that insufferable Umbridge woman. I watched her pull the two apart and demand to know what was happening. Vaisey quickly weaved a lie about her attacking him after he told her he didn't want to go to Hogsmead with her. Astoria scoffed and went into the real story._

_"There is absolutely no reason for a Pureblooded young lady such as yourself to act out in such violence," Umbridge tutted highly. "Mr. Vaisey here has been very helpful on the Squad and does not have the time to take silly and unmotivated girls to town. And besides, even if your story were true, do you not think that wearing your skirt so short with those boots is just asking for something like that to happen?"_

_I did not hear Astoria's response as I was jumping the two story drop, no longer willing to wait for the staircase. Ignoring the pain in my knees I approached the three of them swiftly._

_"We must not tell lies, Miss Greengrass," I heard the cow say, staring greedily at my daughter's small hand._

_I quickly interrupted, stating that since both students were in my House I had the primary right to discipline them. We argued for a while, as she stated that I had never tried to get involved before, and that she would soon create an Educational Decree giving her top authority over such situations. After stating I could hardly wait for that next scrap of paper I grabbed both of the students by the arm to haul them to the dungeon. My grip on Vaisey was so hard the tips of his fingers turned blue._

_I pushed Astoria in my office and locked the door, wanting to be alone with Vaisey as I punished him. At first I interrogated him, demanding him to tell me what he was doing. He suggested that as a fellow man I should understand. That I should just __look__ at the girl and ask myself why I should resist. He even proposed that why I had her locked in my office I should take advantage of my situation as best I could._

_It had been years since I had last tortured someone. It is apparently a skill that once is learned does not dull when unused. For five minutes I had him screaming, crying, vomiting, begging for mercy. I told him exactly who I was concerning the girl locked in my office, and expressed my plans to kill him slowly until he finally slipped into unconsciousness. Once that was done I healed his scars, cleaned up his sick, and modified his memory. He will not remember the torture, nor the things I said to him .I did however leave the imprint of fear and pain on him, associated with what he did to Astoria. When he came to I sent him to scrubbing all the vials and cauldrons by hand and left him alone. I am certain he will not touch her again._

_The moment I walked into my office she went off on me. She screamed at me for locking her in and dared me to punish her for what she did. If any other student had acted like this, any other __person__ said these things to me, I would have destroyed them. By this point in time I was so drained I could hardly respond. I calmly told her to be more careful and opened my office door. She stared at me, called me a cowardly tosser, and marched out the door._

_One day that attitude of hers will get her into trouble. I hope she learns to control herself before it does, though I know I am partially to blame for its intensity. _

_That being said, I have never been more proud of someone in my entire life. _

Tears flowed down her face uninhibited after reading. She never imagined anyone would feel like that towards her. So protective and enraged at her defilement. She had spent her life tough and defensive because she figured no one else would want to help her. But Snape had been there, and as she imagined exactly what he might have done to Vaisey she couldn't help but smile.

"Thanks, Dad."

She couldn't help but begin to feel ashamed as she continued on. She had always felt so justified in treating him the way she did, but as she went through his feelings she could feel the hurt she inflicted on him.

One instance in particular stood out. It was the end of her Fourth Year, and they were seated together in a conference to schedule her classes for the following term. Her OWLs would be there in a year, and she needed to start thinking about what she wanted to do. Instead of giving straight answers she berated and mocked him. She stated what she really wanted was to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, though she supposed she could settle for Potions.

"After all, no one here is really cut out to be a D.A.D specialist, huh?"

He had copied the incident but left no comment. It was clear, however, how terrible her saying such a thing really was.

One entry got her thinking about relationships she had never contemplated. It was a brief paragraph talking about her playing Gobstones with Daphne. He stated he had never been one to enjoy the game, mostly because he was never very good. But something about the patient way she played with her slower sister reminded him of his mother, and the kind smile she gave when she let him win could been seen on Astoria's face when she let her sister do the same.

She had a grandmother she had never thought about. A woman who lived in the very house she sat in. One day she would have to investigate that further.

She flipped to the next page and frowned. It was dated, contained one hastily written sentence, and it ended. She searched through the next couple of pages and found them all blank. This was the end of his journal.

The first sentence was not what interested her as much as the date. It was a date that would be burned into every Witch and Wizard for the rest of history. A date that brought about countless events to be mourned and celebrated, yet when she stared at it in this instance it brought about only one…

_May 2, 1998_

Astoria was immediately taken back to three years ago, falling through her own memory as if trapped in her own pensive.

_Something was about to happen._ No one had told her this, and she doubted anyone could say what it was, but there was something in the air. The effect had been like a full moon and everyone in the castle was active. Fights had broken out, couples were shagging behind tapestries, and everyone held a tense knot in there chest just waiting to be unraveled.

Astoria felt no different, and discovered her release when faced with an old nemesis. She found Pansy standing over Amery Dower, a Hufflepuff in Astoria's year. Amery and she often sat together in Transfiguration and occasionally worked together. Amery possessed a quiet intelligence and was so pleasant to be around that even Astoria liked her.

Her mother was also a Muggle.

Pansy cackled as she shot another curse down on Amery, causing the girl to moan in intense pain.

"Stop it!" Astoria demanded, causing Pansy to break her concentration. Pansy sneered.

"Protecting one of your own, Imposter?" Pansy laughed. "And what do you think the Dark Lord will do to you when he finds out that you're a Blood Traitor? That you've spit in the face of the natural order of things? Merlin I hope I'm there to see that."

"Fuck you, Pansy," Astoria spat, before kneeling over to check on Amery. Pansy flipped her wand quickly, causing the girl to go flying into the wall. Pansy cackled again after hearing a loud snapping sound as the bones in Amery's legs and arms broke. Then again, the sound could also be attributed the snapping of Astoria's mind.

"Crucio!" Astoria cast, pointing directly at Pansy's contorted face. Her cousin immediately collapsed to the ground, wailing in agony.

"How do you like it, you worthless bitch?" Astoria demanded, towering over her menacingly. "Does it feel as good as I do now? I sure as fuck hope so. Cruc-"

"Miss Greengrass!"

Her wrist was grabbed by the squat hand of Alecto Carrow, who frowned with muted disapproval over the altercation as if she had simply found them pushing each other over a contested scarf.

"Pureblooded ladies do not put Unforgivable Curses on other Pureblooded ladies. Is that understood?" Carrow inquired in a demeaning tone.

"Fuck you too, Cow!" Astoria shouted, wriggling her hand out of her grasp.

"Incarcerous!" Carrow retaliated, and in a moment Astoria's hands were bound by ropes.

"You just earned yourself a trip to the Headmaster for that kind of language, young lady!" Carrow expressed, turning her around and leading her to the office.

"No!" Pansy yelled, finally climbing to her feet. "Don't send her there! Don't you know who he is?"

But Carrow had made up her mind and marched Astoria all the way to the gargoyle on the seventh floor. As they reached it however they ran into Peeves, who had detached a commode from a nearby bathroom and was systematically dumping dirty water on those bellow.

"Peeves!" Carrow yelled, now noticing the flood coming from said bathroom after having the pipes burst from the removed toilet.

"Dammit, the messes I have to clean around here!" Carrow spat. "Nature's Nobility!"

The gargoyle instantly leaped aside after hearing the password, revealing the spiral staircase.

"Now up you go! You tell Headmaster Snape just what you've done. I'll talk to him later to make sure you gave the story straight."

Carrow then proceeded to push Astoria onto the staircase, which instantly began to move.

"How the hell am I supposed to knock on the door?" she grumbled, shifting her wrists uncomfortably as they were still bound by rope. Luckily that wasn't much of an issue, as when she reached the top the door to the office was left slightly open, as though shut in haste and improperly latched. Astoria sighed in irritation and nudged the door.

There she saw Snape rummaging irately through his ornate desk, ignoring the dirty looks given to him by past headmasters as he cursed under his breath. It took him a few moments to finally look up, and even then it was only after she cleared her throat.

"You!" he gasped, and for a brief moment a flash of unparalleled terror crossed his face. At the time Astoria did not notice this as she was busy rolling her own eyes, but as she reflected back she was certain he had done so. "What are you doing here?"

"What, can't a girl drop by and visit her dear old da-"

"Astoria, I don't have time for this right now," Snape interrupted swiftly, his eyes darting to the perplexed portrait of Dumbledore behind him before continuing to search frantically through his desk.

"Shocker," Astoria replied flatly, rolling her eyes once again. "Just help me out of this thing and I'll leave you alone."

She shifted her shoulders thoroughly and swung her arms over her head until her tied hand were in front of her. Snape stopped searching once again and stared at her bound condition.

"What did you do?" he asked, walking to her slowly.

"I 'crucioed' Pansy and called Carrow a cow. I also dropped the F-bomb a few times," she stated with a shrug, holding her hands out for him to sever the rope. He stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded, before sighing in exasperation and pulling out a pocket knife.

"You shouldn't have done that," he chided, holding her hands gently as he began to cut through. "You need to not draw attention to yourself."

"What the hell was I supposed to do? Just allow a friend to be attacked? I'm not a coward, unlike you!" she proclaimed, snatching her hands out of his grasp as soon as they were free. "I'm not going to let someone be attacked just because of who their parents are!"

"And neither am I!" he shouted back to her, his voice echoing loudly across the office. Astoria's mouth dropped at the comment, unsure of exactly what he meant by such a thing. Snape suddenly placed his hand on his forearm, and his attention snapped to the Mark that had begun to warm.

"He's close," he muttered to himself.

"He's close?" Astoria repeated, instant and trembling fear garnishing her voice usually coated in bratty confidence.

Snape's head immediately shot up and he swiftly rounded on her, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders.

"You must leave. He cannot know about you. If he were to find out and I were to fail…"

"Fail? What are you talking about, where are you going?" she demanded, tears beginning to fill her eyes as a sudden realization hit her like a bludger.

"I cannot tell you," he replied solemnly. "But please believe me when I say you are the only person alive that I wish I had time to explain myself to."

"You…you're not a coward, are you?" she asked slowly. "You're…you're going up against him aren't you?"

"Shhh!" he hushed, looking around the office frantically. "I've already said too much. You must go!"

"You're a double agent! You're trying to take him down! And he…he's going to kill you when he finds out!" she exclaimed, more terror and fear flowing through her.

"I'd be extremely lucky if that is all he does to me," he replied simply, his hands finally sliding off her shoulders. Without warning Astoria let out a sob. A single, gasping sob that released one tear out of each eye. Her cheeks flushed red in embarrassment, but she did not move to wipe her signs of sorrow away now that they were out.

"My only consolation about this whole thing is that no matter what happens you'll be safe," he stated firmly. "As far as the Dark Lord is concerned you're a Pureblood, and if he prevails you will be protected as long as you keep your head down. Do you hear me? If you only ever do one thing I ask of you please let that be it."

"What is going to happen?" Astoria asked childishly, finally brushing away her tears.

"I do not know, but I sealed my fate to this night years ago," he stated vaguely, looking out the castle window towards Hogsmead grimly. He stared off into the distance for a few moments, his face ridged and unreadable. When he turned to her however, she was met with something rare and henceforth unseen.

Severus Snape turned and smiled warmly at his daughter.

"Your fate, I am certain, long succeeds this day. I know that you are destined for great things. I truly wish I could say more, but I am afraid you really have to leave."

Astoria nodded her head, shock and remorse blanketing her. Somehow she knew that this was the end, that she would never see this man again. A part of her wanted to run up and hug him, mourn his future passing and proclaim him to be her father as she buried her face in his greasy hair. Instead she walked to the door slowly, and expressed the only thing she could think of.

"Good luck."

Three years later she once again sat in one of his offices, crying without restraint, mourning the loss of her biological father. There was so much she could have said, so many things she could have done. She had spat in the face of the slim opportunity to have an actual relationship with him, even though she knew all along that despite her rage she still cared for him as her father. She had just discovered all these things he had done for her, felt for her, and never once had she ever given him anything in return. She had never felt so sick and sorry in her life, and something inside her seemed to be fighting violently to hold on.

She pushed past this feeling, desperate for more. She grabbed at the journal, certain there was something else. But all that was left was that last page that held only one hastily written sentence.

_My last words to you._

What? What were your last words to me she demanded! That's what she wanted, needed! She needed something more, there had to be more.

Only she could no longer seem to think. Her lower abdomen cramped violently and a seizing pain consumed her entire body. Her head burned so fiercely she was certain it would collapse, sending the rest of her along with it. She cried harder, out of fear, desperation, and agony. Though she knew something was happening to her, something terrible, a part of her mind was far removed from herself, and focused solely on the journal in front of her.

_My last words to you…_

And once more she was taken back to that memory, back to the seconds before she shut the door and her eyes to him forever. "Good luck," she had said to him, standing vulnerably as she looked at the man in a new light. And he…he had responded to her…what had he said…something strange with an odd and uncharacteristic tone…

"Here's looking at you, kid," she whispered hoarsely.

Suddenly the journal in front of her began to come to life. Words started spilling down the page as if a cup of thoughts had toppled over on to it. Astoria gasped, and her brain immediately shut out her pain to focus on this one last piece of hope.

_Astoria,_

_If you have found this it means you are as clever as I always thought, and I am dead. I could not bring myself to destroy this journal as it has acted as my only physical tie to you, something I could not let go. I know its existence could be dangerous for you as it proclaims our genetic bond, but I also know that if you were ever suspected of being my daughter and my true loyalty was discovered that the Dark Lord would not require proof to go after you just to further punish me. Not a comforting thought, I know, but a justifiable one._

_This particular passage I have enchanted just in case this journal is ever discovered, as it is for your eyes only. My last words to you, though strange, are actually a famous line from a classic Muggle movie I once saw years ago. Something about the way you looked at me reminded me of that scene, and it simply spilled out of me. I am glad that the line is powerful enough to be remembered by you, who I am certain have never seen a film._

_My life seems to be powered by regret. My father regretted having a witch for a wife and a wizard as a son, and punished us both for such an "infliction" until his death. I regret the choices I made in school, the "friends" I decided to attach myself to. I allowed myself to be fueled by hatred, self-pity, and a consuming jealousy over losing something that was never mine to begin with. Instead of blessing my stars for having such a radiant flower brighten my youth I let my dejection cloud the skies until her life was extinguished. That act, my act, of essentially killing Lily Evans Potter is my biggest regret, and it is what has ruled my life these past seventeen and a half years._

_I tell you this as a warning. I see many of my dark attributes in you: shrewd cleverness, a quick and creative temper, and an ability to hold a long and lasting grudge. It seems to be in our blood to be untrusting, and our family fate to endure harsh lives and twisted irony._

_However this is not all I see in you, and I am certain you are destined for a far greater and fulfilling life than I could ever imagine. Despite the darker parts of you there is a light that shines within. It is subtle, hidden under the harsh armor you wear for your defense, but it is strong and very bright. You have seemingly endless strength and an unflappable respect for yourself, which despite a few careless decisions carries you ever forward. There is a passion and a kindness in you, only ever given when you deem someone worthy of it, but it is there and will help you enjoy life if you allow yourself. _

_But most importantly of all you are determined. You know what you want and are not afraid to get it. You do not waste your time bemoaning your lot in life and instead fight with all your life until you get what it is you desire. _

_I do not know where you gained this strength; certainly not from me, for despite the dangers readily face and the rage I throw when deemed this I know I am a coward. I suppose it does not matter where it comes from, as long as you never lose it. Your drives, your stubbornness, your strength and compassion will take you so far in life._

_I do not know if you know how unique and wonderful a person you are, I fear no one has ever been kind enough to tell you, and if they have you probably didn't believe them. But believe this when I tell you I have never respected or admired anyone quite like you before. If there is one thing I have in my life that I don't regret it is you. Now that this is very possibly the end I feel myself wishing things were different, that I had been there more for you in your life, and that you didn't hate me the way that you have._

_Perhaps it is for the best. I do not think I would have been a very good father. But when I saw you cry for me, mourning my probable death, it gave me hope that perhaps you didn't hate me as much after all. Your sob has allowed me to bless my stars that I had another radiant flower brighten my life, and I hope that whatever I do for the rest of my time left on Earth I only help you continue to grow._

_My perception of love has been addled, broken, and I had always claimed that there was only room in my small heart for one. Love has brought me much suffering and little pleasure, as it has gone unrequited my entire life, and I had vowed to never fall for its trickery again. Little has changed as I stand here. I still suffer greatly from its effects and its lack of reciprocation. What I must alter however is the number I state when recalling this infliction, for you, my daughter, are undoubtedly and irreparably within my heart._

_I am sorry I have not been a source of comfort in your life, but please know that your being has been one in mine._

_Here's looking at you, kid,_

_Your father,  
Severus Snape _

Astoria had to leave.

She couldn't stand to be in that house any more, surrounded by his things, his writing, his thoughts. She had to escape because if she didn't she feared her heart would shatter into a million pieces as she realized she had lost out on having a father. A father she could have talked to, related to.

Loved.

She leapt quickly out of her desk, desperate to get as far away from that place as possible. But the moment she put any weight on to her legs she went crashing to the ground, spilling between the piles of rotting carcasses and shattered glass.

Astoria gasped for breath as she felt a popping in her stomach and a painful contracting between her hips. She struggled for air and the strength to stand and found that neither was a possibility. The pain, the stress, the lack of oxygen and all that had happened to her today slammed into her chest, suffocating her slowly until her mind lost all consciousness.

She woke up hours later in a pool of blood, the final remains of the small voice of life that had pleaded with her all morning.


	24. Too Much, Too Late

Too Much, Too Late

Words could not express the fury that flowed through Draco's body upon stumbling into the messy, sugar-coated kitchen.

It had been a long day to say the least. The author he had met with had been an insufferable man. A proud dreamer with high literary aspirations, he seemed thoroughly degraded being asked to write a simple manual and instead dove into deep description of his next novel despite Draco's protests. Heated words had been exchanged as they struggled to get on separate agendas, and the spat ended with the writer tossing the espresso Draco had bought him right on to his new clean robes.

Draco's day only further descended into chaos after that. He went through a slew of potential clients all clamoring to ride on his new wave of success, all of whom had less to offer than the last. The stores he went to which sold his product all seemed to be doing fine. It was, as expected, a revolutionary product and proclaimed as an extraordinary idea. The cost was reasonable (only slightly over-priced) and the powders were willingly embraced. In fact the only thing consumers didn't like about it was him. Checking on stores and sales meant entering the public sphere during its busiest hours. Mangers pursed their lips as he made his inquiries and tried to get him to leave as quickly and professionally as possible. Shoppers stared at him with dirty looks, and more than one woman had exploded at him and threatened a slap.

As he made his way home from the last stop on his route all he could think about was how terrible his day had been. He made a mental note to check the budget to see if they could afford to have someone else do the store checks, as it seemed more and more necessary for him to remain hidden behind the company's inconspicuous name. With the thought filed away all he could think about was how badly he wanted to wind down. He immediately pictured two large glasses of wine, enjoyed as he and Astoria lay crammed into the flat's tiny bathtub, the steamy water overflowing off the sides as bubble suds dripped to the floor. After their bath they would dry off and he would carry her to their bed, either to make love or to sleep, both of which sounded amazing at the moment. Hell, he could forgo the wine and the bath and head straight for the couch, not budging an inch as he and Astoria listened to the wireless. That simple thought made him contentedly happy and marvelously lazy.

Funny how anger can spark boundless energy.

He was surprised to see the flat empty as he stepped through the door. He had returned home much earlier than anticipated and the sun hadn't even gone down. He expected to find her curled up on the couch with a book like normal. What he found instead was the kitchen in a state of complete disarray, mounds of ingredients half mixed into bowls seemingly untouched for hours.

"Mugglefucker!" he cursed, throwing his briefcase down hard on the floor. Frustrated rage rose through his body upon every step, and he proclaimed every explicative in the English language as the scene in front of him became clear.

He had asked her to do one thing. One bloody thing for him and his career! The library had reduced her to part-time due to budget cuts and she seemed to have instilled a freeze on her research. For the past few weeks she hadn't done much of anything because of her illness, and he figured she was going stir crazy. In fact the last thing she had done that she seemed to enjoy was baking this very cake. Why would she lay everything out just to abandon it when he had told her how important such as task was for his career? What on earth would just make her pick up and leave in the middle of the day like this?

And who, exactly, was she with?

Draco only had a moment to process that chillingly jealous thought when he heard the door open behind him. He turned swiftly to see Astoria carefully closing and locking the door, and he caught a harrowing and shameful expression plastered to her face. Something about her look, his day, and the whole situation caused something in his mind to snap, and all modes of reason were immediately wisped away.

"You care to explain this to me?" he demanded, shaking one of the mixing bowls in such strong emphasis that half of its contents spilled to the floor.

Astoria froze upon seeing him, and instantly her face went stony and unemotional. Her stance tensed up defensively as though she were guarding something from him.

Her reaction was not very placating, nor was her response.

"You weren't supposed to be home yet," she stated flatly, her dark voice quiet yet commanding in that infuriatingly inherent way she had.

"That's what you have to say to me?" he snapped, the menace in his voice rising with every syllable. "Where the fuck have you been?"

"Out," she replied simply, her green eyes glowing dangerously.

"Out. Out? OUT!" Draco repeated in growing insanity. "Well I hope whoever you were out fucking was worth it, because you just totally ruined me, Astoria!"

"I ruined you?" she repeated flatly, her eyebrow cocking half-heartedly.

"I asked you to do one bloody thing for me," he hissed, pointing his finger and sticking it in her face. "One thing! And I know you're little potion isn't panning out for you, but you being a failure is no reason to ruin my success!"

He may as well have slapped her. Hell, he almost wished he had done so instead as it would have been less wounding. He had been halfway through voicing his thought when a voice inside him started to raise alarms and begged him to stop. He had no idea where such a thing had come from. It was certainly nothing he had ever thought before, nor would he ever for a moment entertain the idea of it being true.

But he was angry and devastated by the idea of her being with another man. Therefore some twisted recess of his mind constructed the most painful and insulting thing he could throw at her, in hopes of cutting her deeper than she had him.

He braced himself for the explosion. She would cut him down with insults, destroy his childish gall, and exploit his insecurities the way only someone you love can. Maybe she would reveal her affair, and throw the superior sexual prowess of her new lover in his face. With the mere raise of her voice she would thrust them into a fight that would last for hours, sending them into a contest of who could decimate the other first.

He didn't expect her face to drop. He didn't expect her stony mask to slip for an instant, revealing a look of pained exhaustion, personal torture, and irreparable hurt. And he certainly didn't expect her eyes to cast themselves dejectedly to the ground as she turned away from him. Without a word she walked to their bedroom, closed the door, and locked it.

Draco stood alone in the living room, stunned at the turn of events. Her leaving without a word was worse than any fight he could imagine. He felt dirty and more ashamed of himself than he had ever been in his life. For the first time that night he thought that maybe something more had happened that day, that perhaps she had an actual reason for leaving in the middle of her project that had nothing to do with him. Maybe her day had been just as bad as his, maybe even worse.

He wished more than anything that he could take back the last five minutes of his life. He wanted his feet to be able to move forward now so he could knock gently on the door, call out her name, and beg for her to let him in so they could talk. He cursed himself for not having the tact to be able to fix this, for not having the skills that would take him from the cold living room to their warm bed where they could work on the mess he made.

And he hated his Malfoy pride that inhibited him from doing any of that, and instead led him out the door and away from any progress.

* * *

Why he had left and gone to his office he didn't know. Perhaps he figured he could bury himself in his work. That's what men did when they had problems at home, right? His father had done that, his friend's fathers, every man he knew. He assumed it was some kind of switch he could throw that would allow him to hide from his guilt and shame. Merlin knows he had plenty to do…

But all he could do was think about Astoria. Everything he had accomplished in the recent past had been because of her. He would still be a miserable prisoner if she hadn't challenged him. If it weren't for her support he would have nothing to show for himself. Her extreme creativity and skill had made his company possible. He owed it all to her, and what had he done to show his thanks?

He threw his head on to his desk in agony. _No wonder I think she's cheating on me_, he thought. _I would cheat on me._ She was clearly miserable. Her project was at a standstill and he was hardly ever home. And when he was home he expected her to do everything for him like she was his House Elf. And then when things didn't go his way he exploded at her and demeaned her in the worst way possible.

"I take her for granted."

As he spoke those words aloud he felt a new wave of guilt wash over him. It had been all about him lately with no concern whatsoever for what she wanted. That wasn't how he felt, but it was how he had been acting.

Which was remarkably self-destructive when he reminded himself what his end game plan was.

He let out a sigh as he looked around his office. It was filled with grownup things and inhabited by a child playing make-believe. What made him think he could run a business when he still reverted to name calling tantrums when he was upset? During good times he had always been amused at how he and Astoria worked things out. Fighting over everything before cooling off to talk had been a sign of passion in his mind. But now as he thought it over it was just juvenile. The two of them were clearly capable of having rational conversations. Couldn't they just skip the fights and talk?

And what about all the other times? He wanted her support, needed it, but had he been giving her any reason to? Had he once ever told her how important she was to his dreams, his future? Had he ever expressed his core desire to one day have enough resources to fund her research so she could focus all her time doing what she loved without any worry about money? Did she know that that was why he had decided to get into investing in the first place? Did she know how inspired he was by her or that he thought of her as his muse?

Had she any clue of what his first major purchase had been when he started making money, that now sat tucked away in the buffet table drawer?

Most of these were things he assumed she knew, but looking back on it he realized he had really done nothing to express himself. He had no idea why it took something blowing up in his face multiple times for him to realize these obvious truths. Why is it that it took so much for something that resounded so clearly to take form in his eyes?

He was distracted by his thoughts by a knocking at the door. His head immediately perked up and his heart skipped a beat. She was there! She had come to him to talk! He could skip battling his pride and stupidity and go straight to making up. All of a sudden it didn't matter that she left, or even if she had been cheating on him. If she could forgive him for what he had done to her then they could just start fresh. This could work, he could fix this.

He jumped from his desk and ran to the door, a relieved grin filling his face. He opened the door quickly and prepared to grab her in his arms and hold her tight, removing the option of her being able to leave, when he suddenly found himself facing the person he last expected to see.

"Father…"

"Hello, Draco," Lucius responded, smiling weakly upon his greeting. He stood there awkwardly for a while as his son simply stared at him.

"May I…come in?" Lucius asked quietly, his lips trembling as he tried to hold a happy face. Still in shock, Draco could only back away to make room. His father stepped inside, looking everywhere except into his son's eyes. They stood there in silence for a few moments, a burning question standing between them.

"Erm…your office is very nice," Lucius complemented meekly, his voice shaking slightly.

"What are you doing here?" Draco finally blurted out. Lucius was quiet for a moment, and Draco watched as the last of his father's confident reserve slipped away from his face.

"I shouldn't have come. You…you don't want to see me," Lucius commented, his voice going low and panicky. "I'll leave."

"No!" Draco all but shouted, surprising them both. With everything that had been going on in the past months, with his new company and with Astoria, he had tried not to think about his family. But, like he had been realizing today he couldn't bury himself so far into one thing so as to shut out the next. Despite how much he wished he could just move on he couldn't help but think about the pain he must have put his mother through, or just what his father would say to him when it came to his next business move.

"I'm just…surprised," Draco responded diplomatically, suppressing his desire to both embrace and punch his father. "The last time I saw you you were threatening to blast my name off the family tree."

Lucius' eyes darted to the ground, and for the first time in Draco's life he felt his father project an aurora of self-loathing and submission.

"I said a lot of things that night," he replied shamefully, bowing his head as he spoke. "I've done and said a lot of things throughout my life that have just been…wrong."

If Draco had been shocked before, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He had never, ever, heard his father admit fault or say those words to him before. To the Dark Lord or the Ministry, maybe, but that was only during a matter of life or death. But voluntarily expressing such a thing to his son was almost unfathomable.

In fact it was so beyond anything Draco had known from him he felt his heart harden, preparing himself for the catch his father was about to present.

"I've been realizing lately that I have mishandled certain situations," his father continued, carefully choosing his words and trying not to show how hard he struggled against them. Such an act only made Draco narrow his darkened eyes.

"And now I know that I must do something about my actions…"

"How much do you need?" Draco demanded, cutting his father off before he went deeper into his rouse.

"What?" Lucius inquired, looking completely taken aback by the question.

"Let's just cut the shit and get down to why you're really here," Draco sneered. "You're out of money, just like I told you you would be. And now you realize you have a son who is actually making some, so you decide it's time to make nice and get your share."

The complete look of astonishment on Lucius' face was almost enough to make Draco reconsider his motives. But his father had managed to worm his way in and out of the right people's good graces for as long as Draco had known him. Hell, the man made a living out of it. He had also passed down such skills to his son, who was in no mood to buy what he was selling.

"I…I deserve that," Lucius acknowledged, lowering his head in near perfect and believable shame. "I have never been a trustworthy person to outsiders, but believe me family solidarity and trust has always been of the upmost importance to me."

"You are such a snake!" Draco shouted, losing his hold on his emotions and blowing up. "You keep me a prisoner in our home and punish me for _your _mistakes. You hold me back and demean any idea I ever had. Because of you I've become an outcast to the world, and even people who have been my supposed "lifelong friends" can hardly stand me. And then when I finally find someone who I can be intimate with, someone who cares about me just because of me, you insult and banish her over something that doesn't even fucking matter anymore. The only thing you truly deserve is to go to hell!"

Draco turned around swiftly, a part of him in complete disbelief that he had talked to his father that way. But his head held strong, and he sat down firmly in his desk to induce his next gesture.

"How much do you need?" Draco repeated coldly, pulling out his checkbook and writing down his father's name.

"I didn't come here for your money," Lucius replied desperately, fighting against what Draco assumed was a shout.

"Then what the hell are you here for?" Draco asked, furrowing his eyes angrily. Lucius stared at his son, and for a moment Draco felt certain his act was over and the scolding would start. Draco recalled a handful of times during his childhood when his father yelled and lectured at him, reducing him to tears and shame. But not now. He was a man, and he would not let his father treat him any differently.

And then the unexpected happened. His father began to shake, and Draco hardened himself against the coming rage. And then his father began…to cry.

No sob escaped Lucius' lips, but definite tears welled up in his grey eyes and a few escaped down his face. Draco could barely breathe as his father collapsed in one of the chairs in front of him, fighting against his emotional state. His father had never cried in front of him before, and Draco was at a complete loss of what to do or how to feel.

"Your mother…" Lucius finally began, his voice cracking at the words, "your mother has barely spoken to me since you've left."

His father let that sentence hang in the air for a moment, and Draco could literally begin to feel the pain that seeped out with this admittance.

"I felt certain that she would come around," Lucius continued in a near whisper, a sardonic smile forming on his face as he reflected over his own actions. "She would see that cutting ties with you was the only way for you to see your mistakes. It was only a matter of time before you came to your senses, saw the error of your ways, and returned home."

Though his father's words could have been said in scorn, they all dripped with misery and despair.

"But your mother knew better. She had already lost a beloved sister to such an ideology. She never talks about Andromeda and I know she feels hurt to this day for her betrayal against the ingrained ideas of the Purebloods. But I think that given the choice your mother would have rather have had her sister back over her principles even during the height of our family's success. And now? Now she had to watch her only son leave over the same thing, only now such a principle means even less to her."

"So you've come here to guilt me?" Draco inquired, though his voice was much softer than it had been. "Get me to come home because I'm putting Mother through pain?"

"No!" Lucius exclaimed earnestly. "Draco, the only person putting her through pain is me. I'm the one who pushed you away. You haven't done anything wrong. You're young. You're supposed to fall in love. We want that for you. But I have been spoiled in my decades of marriage with a woman who society approved of for me. I had forgotten that when I was your age I had fallen in love with a woman who just _happened_ to also be a Pureblood. And I had forgotten that I didn't give a damn what my father thought of her, and that I was set on making her my wife with or without his approval."

"Grandfather Abraxus didn't want you to marry Mother?" Draco asked, such a shocking confession derailing him from his forced aloofness. "Why?"

"He thought she wasn't good enough to be a Malfoy," Lucius explained. "Sure she was a wealthy Pureblood, but she had a sister and a cousin who were blood traitors, and the Blacks had produced more than their fair share of Squibs. She was of weak blood, he had told me, and any child born by her would be trouble."

"Well he was right, wasn't he?" Draco replied, pursing his lips to keep from saying anything else.

"Of course he wasn't," Lucius stated earnestly, a smile beginning to form on his face. "In fact one of the most satisfying feelings I have ever had was that he lived long enough to see you perform your first feat of magic. I'll never forget the look on his smug face when you set his favorite chair ablaze after he told you you couldn't have seconds on dessert."

Lucius' laugh was short lived upon realizing that Draco was not as amused with the memory.

"So why are you here, now of all times?" Draco demanded. "It's been months since we've even seen each other."

Lucius hesitated, as if unsure how to answer the question. His words failing him, he instead reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, plastic figure. Draco recognized it instantly as one of the cowboy toys Miller used to give him as a child. This one in particular had been his favorite, though he hadn't seen it in over ten years.

"I was digging through one of the bureaus today when I found this," Lucius explained softly, staring at the toy in lieu of his son. Draco heard his father hitch his breath as he struggled against himself.

"You used to drive me crazy with these bloody things," he continued, his voice cracking as he spoke. "You would leave them all over the floor and I would always step on them. I damn near broke my ankle once after I tripped over one."

"And then you took them all away from me," Draco stated flatly, a hint of childhood bitterness filtering into his voice.

"I did do that," Lucius admitted, nodding his head. "And eleven years later I'm still trying to take things away from you for going against my wishes. Only you're not a child anymore, and instead of taking away your things I took away your parents."

Lucius let that statement hang in the air, letting a defining silence fill the room.

"I have been a fool, Draco. I was so blinded by my loss of power and wealth that I had convinced myself I had hit rock bottom. I didn't realize I had so much more to lose," Lucius explained in a whisper. "When your mother and I found you after the Battle, saw that you were alive, that we were all alive, nothing else mattered. It didn't matter that we were on the losing side or that I knew we'd be punished. We were all together, and as long as we were I knew we could rebuild our lives. But somehow in the last three years I had forgotten that feeling, and took for granted just how important you and your mother are to me. You are all I have, all I love. And instead of cherishing you and your mother like I should I have belittled you, and tossed you and your desires aside to keep up appearances. I was so worried about how the family was perceived from the outside that I destroyed it from within. And now all of a sudden it hit me that I may have completely alienated myself from the only two reasons I have to keep living."

Draco sat silently as he absorbed his father's words. Such admittance went far beyond anything he expected from him. No longer did his pleas seem like a rouse for money or a cleverly laid trap to get him to return home, but honest words from a broken man. Never before had his father looked old to him, but at that moment he could see the nearly fifty years of life etched into his hollowed face. His father's admittance of pain and regret spurned Draco into spiraling into his own agony. The thought of how much he missed and loved his parents tore at his heart, and for a moment he wanted nothing more to embrace his mother once again and to stand proudly at his father's side like nothing had happened.

But he could not. Too much had happened for him to go back the way he came. He had come too far to return to being his father's puppet and his mother's lap dog.

"I can never be what you want me to be," Draco replied, working hard to harden himself against his father's reaction. "I have to be me."

"Draco, my son," Lucius replied, a smile growing on his face, "you have already far surpassed anything I expected from you. You have hoisted yourself out of the ashes and brought yourself back to life. You have gone from having everything handed to you, to having it all taken away, and now are steadily reclaiming it with your own two hands. You are stronger and more capable now than I have ever been, and you have achieved this all on your own!"

"No, Father, I haven't," Draco pressed firmly. "Everything good that has happened to me is all because I had Astoria's help. I wouldn't have gotten anywhere without her."

Lucius slumped back in his chair, his smile faded.

"So it all comes down to the girl, does it?" Lucius muttered as much to himself as he did Draco.

"Father, she is more than just a pretty girl who I like to fuck. She isn't some kind of statement of rebellion I am trying to throw and you and Mother," he explained earnestly. "She's…everything to me. She's the only one who has supported and inspired me. I know that no matter what happens I can count on her. She understands me, is there for me, has _sacrificed_ for me. And she is bloody brilliant. Look at what she has been able to accomplish!" Draco paused as he pulled back the sleeve of his robes, showing his father his Mark-free arm. Lucius' eyes widened as his jaw dropped, and he grabbed his son's arm to inspect it closer.

"That's impossible!" he proclaimed.

"Nothing is impossible," Draco reminded, walking around the desk to meet his father eye to eye.

"This is incredible," Lucius breathed, mindlessly clutching his own arm.

"She's incredible," Draco corrected. "I love her…and I intend to marry her."

"Marry her?" Lucius repeated in surprise. "But Draco you're only twenty-one and she's…"

"I don't care," Draco interrupted firmly. "She's the one. I've already bought the ring and plan on proposing as soon as the time is right. You claim that family is the most important thing, well she's my family too. So if you intend on trying to get back in my life that means accepting all of me, including the mix-breed cunt I intend on spending the rest of my life with."

Lucius stared at his son as though he had never seen him before. Indeed, this firm and determined version of Draco who stood so strongly alongside someone else was completely new. And though this new stance would completely destroy a millennium of Malfoy beliefs, he had to admit it looked good on him.

"If that is truly how you feel, if you really love her that much…" Lucius began, hanging his sentence in the air, "then I support you…and her…completely."

Draco winced in shock at the statement.

"Really?" he asked in disbelief.

"Well you haven't left me much of a choice," his father replied in a grin. "But your obviously determined to be with her, and a Malfoy man always gets what he wants, especially when it comes to a woman."

For the first time that night Draco broke into his own smile. Relief poured throughout his body at the thought of no longer having to exile himself from his parents. He could see his mother again, have his father back in his confidence, all while keeping the woman he loved. He was so overcome with joy he nearly burst.

But he kept his Malfoy reserve, and he swallowed his smile as he stuck out his hand.

"Then you have yourself a deal," Draco proclaimed. Lucius too seemed to put on a mask of icy reserve at the statement, and stared at his son a bit too long before responding. He stuck out his own hand and the two shook firmly. The contact seemed to drag on forever as the same idea bounced around their heads, both of them too proud to act on it. Their hands eventually dropped and they were left staring at each other quietly.

"Oh, what the hell," Lucius spat, and promptly stepped forward to pull Draco into a hug. Draco never remembered hugging his father like this. The embrace was stiff and awkward, and over very quickly. But as they pulled away they both smiled happily, elated to once again be father and son.

"I better go and tell your mother the good news," Lucius said professionally, nodding his head curtly. "I am certain she'll want you over for dinner soon."

"I'll be there tomorrow," Draco replied, nodding back diplomatically.

"Good," Lucius stated, before turning towards the door. He hesitated for a moment before turning back around, smiling in odd mischief as he did.

"You do know that if you marry her you'll never be able to get away with anything," he stated.

Draco grinned at the truth of the statement.

"I do believe I have gotten away with enough in my life, Father."

* * *

Draco rushed home to the flat, thrilled and in a great hurry to tell Astoria all about what happened. He had quite forgotten all about their fight and wanted nothing more than to express to her the great news.

"Astoria!" he called out happily, dashing into their living room and turning on the lights. "Azzy, you'll never believe…"

But Draco stopped midsentence as the sight came into view. Their flat was bare. All of Astoria's books and potion containers were gone. The greenhouse that had been unapologetically built into the living room had disappeared, the original wall returned.

"No," Draco whispered in terror, running quickly into the bedroom. "Astoria!"

But all he found were his clothes hanging in an otherwise empty closet.

Draco stumbled back out into the living room as though he had been hexed. It was all gone. Every sign of her ever living there had vanished without trace or explanation.

Except…

It was then that Draco saw a piece of parchment lying on the buffet table by the door. He grabbed it desperately, hoping for some kind of notice of evacuation or termite damage, something that would tell him it wasn't what he knew it was.

Draco received no such luck, and instead felt his insides collapse after reading four simple words.

_**I can't do this.**_

Draco felt his knees give out from under him, and he all but crashed into the table.

It had just been a fight. A stupid fight, a nothing fight. Surely she hadn't left just because of an argument over cake...

But then he realized just what was held in the drawer he leaned against and a new wave of panic swept through. He ripped the drawer open quickly and found, laying right beside where her recipe book would have been and right under a stack of spare parchment, a velvet box containing a small but carefully chosen diamond ring.

Draco slid down to the floor, staring as the ring flashed at him in mockery.

She was gone.


	25. Brand New Start

Brand New Start

The crash from the waves was barely audible over the bustle of the giant city. If you strained hard enough you could just make out their particular chord amongst the soundtrack of chaos that accompanied the neighborhood. The wind carried a mix of salt, sand, and car exhaust, all blending together to produce a gradual layer of grime that blanketed pedestrians. The Muggle automobiles showed no mercy to those who dared to cross the street, and the birds projected no sense of fear to those who dared to shoo.

Astoria turned her back against the ceaseless city and stared across the Atlantic Ocean. This was nothing new to her. As a child her family would always summer in their private beach house. She had always harbored a healthy respect for the vast body of water, and though she was never really one for swimming, she had always enjoyed gazing out in wonder.

She tried desperately to be comforted by this. It was the same ocean as before. It was the same ocean that had seen her claim a birthday almost every year, and it was the same ocean that would remain when she would no longer be around to collect any more. Usually such thoughts would bring her a form of strange security. Normally such a strong and lasting feature would bring about tranquil reflection and at least a few drops of inner peace.

But not today. Today she found the whole thing off putting, almost foreign. She reaped no comfort from the scene and instead felt herself fill up with emptiness. And it wasn't because of the fact that two weeks ago she had walked out of the life of the only man she had ever loved. It wasn't because she had discovered that ten years of the bitter philosophy she had harbored against Snape had been unfounded. It wasn't even because her mind and body still hadn't recovered from a painful miscarriage. It was much simpler than that.

The ocean was on the wrong side.

It had been getting dark, and she had decided that perhaps watching the sunset over the ocean's horizon would make her feel better, like it had countless times before. But the sun does not set on the Atlantic Ocean when you were in the western hemisphere. The sky simply turns a nuclear orange before slowly fading into black.

There was no point turning around to watch the sun fall. Much of the sky had been censored by impossibly tall buildings, jutting out of the ground like crooked teeth. Instead she leaned against a slippery black railing, and let her eyes focus on a barely discernable figure out in the distance. It was that tall green woman she had often seen in tourist posters, staring out across the sea with a regal yet democratic look upon her face.

She was supposed to be a symbol of relief and new chance to many people, people like her. But Astoria felt no elation, no liberation, and no warmth from her metallic torch. Indeed she simply felt like a tired, poor, and huddled mass. She could only struggle with her breath as she was surrounded by the wretched refuse of the teeming shore. She was without home, Portkey-tossed, and no golden door had appeared to make her feel anything but.

The people who surrounded her on the boardwalk took no heed as they passed by talking in their flat accents. She had thought that coming here would be an easy transition, but the vast difference in dialect that had evolved over centuries of separation only accentuated how far from home she really was. Simple inquires such as the direction of the nearest loo and if she was in the correct queue at the bank received odd stares and requests of clarification, as though she weren't speaking her own language correctly. When she had ordered tea at a restaurant she was given a cold and murky beverage that tasted more like sugar water with lemon than anything else. A side of chips brought her a bag of crisps, and she insisted that the soggy bag of "fries" she finally got her hands on was a far cry from anything she had ever made in her French cuisine cooking class, despite whatever the name proclaimed them.

There was one thing, however, that this country did have going for it. Though its history was comparatively short when placed besides her homeland, it did have a rather inspiring glow surrounding it. She stood on the shores of a country colonized by outcasts. People from all over the world who no longer felt like they fit in, or saw something better for themselves than what they had, came here in droves. Witches and Wizards who had been deemed second-class citizens because of their Blood Status had fled an oppressive continent and those who claimed superiority based on Purity. They created their own rules and traditions, based not off who their family _was_, but what it could _become_. And despite generations of those who acted to the contrary, countless cases of withering abuse to such an ideology, and blatant instances of inequality, the dream of coming to a place where you could pull yourself up as high as you wanted still shined true. Even though the American's could rightly be portrayed as loud and blind to many things, there was still a sort of begrudging respect you couldn't help but feel for those who believed in this idea and carried it through the centuries.

Astoria wished she could say that is why she had come here. She wished she could tell whoever cared to ask that she was tired of being repressed by an outdated society and that she had come to be one of the seekers of the American Dream. She knew she would be celebrated in the signature city she had chosen to reside in if she proclaimed that she had come to cast off the shackles of the old and flew across the pond to embrace the new.

But once again it was not as romantic or as complicated as all that. When she had quickly packed up all of her things and rushed to the Portkey station it was not principles or liberty that had drawn her to pick up the oversized cigarette lighter that instantly transported her to this spot. Her reasons for leaving England were stressful and complex, but her reason for going where she went to was simple:

A music box.

An old, tiny, battered, see-through music box her Muggle Studies professor had left behind in class one day after it ceased to properly sing its song. Any time you cranked the lever it could only wearily produce its worn out tune. It sounded as though it had to struggle for breath to carry through each stanza, and anyone in their right mind would have left the cheap Muggle trinket in the rubbish where it belonged.

Yet Astoria couldn't let it go. Even at sixteen she had forged a strange attachment to it, and during the darkest moments in her life four years later the reason for this seemed clear. Though still damaged beyond repair the melody sang out to her that night in true form, and there was no doubt at that time what she needed to do.

Two weeks later she no longer felt as sure. She couldn't say what she was doing so far from home, and began to lose her resolve as her savings flirted dangerously close to the amount it would cost to return. Yet still she stayed. Her impetuous reasoning constantly reminded her what she had gone though, and demanded that she state what it is she had to return to. Family? The weak bond that connected her with the Greengrasses didn't seem like it was enough. Friends? The concept was a laugh. Work? She felt certain that a new location was just what she needed for a fresh go on her potion.

Love?

There was no such thing.

Astoria watched as the sky faded from orange, to red, purple, to a near black. She would need to return to her motel soon. The city's dangerous reputation intensified at night, and she had no energy to fight off a Muggle mugger or a Magical attacker.

But she had one more thing she had to do. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the battered music box. She grunted slightly as she turned the stubborn dial, and watched in muted awe as the gears shifted, producing the melody that placed her where she was. The normally happy tune turned melancholy with the tampered speed and gasping tones, however Astoria couldn't help but think that this was the way the song should be played. At least for her. With this thought she couldn't help but sing along:

_These little town blues  
…are melting…away.  
I'm gonna…make…a brand new start…of it…  
In old…New York…_

_If I can…make it there  
I'm gonna make it…  
Anywhere….  
It's…up to you…  
New York…  
New York._

A hardened heart prohibited her from crying, though her mind could not keep itself from racing to the last Frank Sinatra song that had guided her life; a song that had led to a dance and placed her in the arms of Draco Malfoy. The memory haunted her every time she played the music box, and upon each repeat she felt the need to chuck the box straight against the nearest wall. Indeed, the ocean seemed like a fine resting place for such an instrument of torture.

Instead she simply slipped the box into her pocket, stole one last glance at the unflinching statue, and started the trek back to her motel room.

* * *

The artificial light from the electric lamps flickered as she traversed the shady downtown street. Car horns and chatter in multiple languages filled the air despite the time. Astoria ticked off the blocks that remained before she reached her motel, growing more and more impatient with the noise as she trudged on in exhaustion. She may have been in the city that never slept, but that did not mean she forgave the constant sound when _she_ wanted to.

She finally reached her motel, though the sight of it brought little relief. It was a squalid two story wooden structure, comically placed between four towering skyscrapers. The Muggles around her passed by the walkway without a glance, but Astoria let her feet carry her to the crooked staircase that led to her room.

She had to halt on the penultimate step, saving her from tripping over the lean, matted ball of fur that lay on the landing. The creature didn't look so much like a cat as it did a miniature lynx. The animal stared at her with yellow defiant eyes, its tail swishing upon recognition.

"Move out of the way, you little bugger!" Astoria demanded, foreseeing a sliced leg from the cat's formidable claws if she tried stepping over it. The cat stared back in attitude for a minute before stretching out slowly. It took its own pace as it walked forward, pausing to lay down under the warming glow of the flood light right outside her room. It looked up at her aloofly, and Astoria could almost swear it smirked at her.

She proceeded to move past the animal and entered her room, tripping over her exhaustion and her scattered shoes. The downtrodden atmosphere had quickly extinguished her usual drive for cleanliness. After a few weeks the sparse belongings she had brought with her lay scattered about the room: her school trunk packed with clothes and shoes, and another filled with books and potions supplies, many of which she had Summoned from Spinner's End before making her departure. She had brought no trinkets or mementos from her last twenty years. No pictures, no birthday gifts, no jewelry. The only thing of any personal value she had with her was the dying music box that resided in her pocket, which she kept for the pragmatic reminder of why she came to New York.

She needed nothing else, no one else. She was back to how she felt eight months ago, before she let her life diverge off on a useless and futile tangent. She would find work, save up and support herself. No more compromises, no more arrangements, no more being led by ridiculous hormones and untrue dreams. She would work tirelessly on fixing her potion until it was complete. Then she could prove that she was right, that she could do it on her own, and that nothing else mattered.

Astoria looked around her pathetic excuse for a room and sighed. She refused to be affected by where she stood. Life was hard, she knew that better than anyone, and she expected nothing to the contrary. Like all situations her current habitat was temporary. All she could depend on was herself, and all she could expect was change.

She took a deep breath as she worked to drown out the noise of the restless city. Car horns, distant music, and the unceasing cooing from the relentless pigeons nested on her balcony slowly but surely disappeared. After a few minutes of empty contemplation she began to rummage through her trunk for her Sleeping Potion. She was drained and felt no need to wait around for sleep to come naturally. That, and she needed an escape from her dreams.

That was the one place she could not run from. Lying down to rest in an empty bed always made it painfully clear that there was no one there beside her. Waking up to a strange noise in the middle of the night only reminded her there was no one there to check the hall to see that things were safe. And without the Sleeping Potion there was no one there to save her from her subconscious. Flashes of hidden cigarettes, silver scarves, fires in a kitchen, empty bottles of tequila, journals, cakes, chimneys, fireworks, cast iron skillets, and a worn green blanket meant for two haunted her nights. Without something there to keep her from her dreams she would always wake up the same way: in a sweat, heart pounding, and her ears ringing with the cry of a forgotten baby.

And for one minute each day, before she drugged herself into unconsciousness, she tortured herself by thinking about all those things. About how she had literally wandered into a relationship with the most unlikely of candidates, how now she truly understood the term "falling" in love, as she had done so with no direction or personal say, and how for a few brief moments being with Draco had been everything she had never knew she wanted.

And then when the tears started to form she would remember the neglect. How she had given him everything she had and was simply taken for granted. How she felt like a toy given to a spoiled only child. She clearly recalled their last encounter, and how she had known at that very moment that the man in front of her was not a man she could spend her life with. She had allowed herself to compromise in order to have him in her life, but she had gone too far and made her life about him. If that's how she would act when she was in love than to hell with such a concept. It was time to rebuild _her_ life. It was time to remind herself who she was, even if she had never been exactly certain who that may be.

Just before the bottle hit her lips, after assuring herself that she was doing the right thing, she always inevitably plunged into the worst moment of her day, falling hard from her mountain of self-righteousness to the cold and stinging truth:

She had lost at love, she had lost their child, and after two weeks he still hadn't come looking for her.

She gasped hard, and all but threw the potion into her mouth for sleep.

A sudden knock on the door caused her to spit it out, adding another stain to the soiled and molded carpet.

"Go away!" she yelled in frustration. "I don't need my room cleaned!"

She was answered simply with another knock.

"I don't need help! No necesita ayuda!" she screamed again. The knocker simply rapped again a third time.

"Look, _dude_, I don't know what the hell your problem is, but when I tell you to do something you listen!" Astoria commanded, losing the last of her temper as she pulled open the door.

"Now just where have I heard that before?" the tenacious tapper inquired simply.

Astoria blinked.

She blinked harder.

And then she blinked again, as surely some of the potion had been ingested and she was experiencing some kind of hallucination.

"What the…?" she stuttered, completely taken aback. "What are you doing here?"

"And that confirms it. You remind me more of your mother every day."

No further explanation was given as Helios Greengrass stepped forward, causing Astoria to stumble back due to his large girth and commanding presence. Helios paid no mind to her shock as he entered the room, taking a quick glance at the place before settling his attention back on her.

"Nice to see you're doing so well for yourself," he stated off handedly, walking to the middle of her shoe strewn floor. With a wave of his wand all of her possessions flew back into their trunks.

"How did you even find me here?" she asked, still stunned.

"Astoria, I am not the head of one of the largest transportation companies for naught. Nothing comes in or out of England without my knowing it. That goes doubly when one of those things is my daughter," he answered simply. He eyed the small and shabby table propped up with only three good legs with slight disdain, before waving his wand once more. A large and ornate desk appeared out of nowhere, far out of scale with the rest of the room, and wildly out of place. But Helios Greengrass always preferred to do his business behind such a fixture, and was certain it was something Astoria was more than used to.

Though Astoria was slightly impressed with the comment, no familiar sentiment was roused upon hearing Helios' answer.

"I'm not going back," she snapped. "I don't care if Mother bothered you until you couldn't stand it and you finally came looking for me. I'm not striking any more arrangements!"

"Astoria, sit down and shut up," he commanded so quietly yet so firmly that she had no option but to instantly plop down on her bed. Angered by her own reaction, she simply stewed and crossed her legs in a huff.

"I have not come three thousand miles to make a deal, and I certainly have not come to take you back against your wish, despite your mother's incessant wailing. I have come for two reasons only. First, to ensure that you were still alive. That being indisputably accomplished, we move on to the second task on the agenda. I do believe that though you feel like you owe your family very little, you can at least agree that we are due an explanation for your sudden and unruly departure," he stated.

"Oh," Astoria responded softly, looking down shamefully at her feet. During the last two weeks she hadn't even stopped to think that she had not bothered to tell her parents or sister that she had left. She had not wanted to talk to anyone, but at the same time she should have known that _eventually_ they would get worried.

"Your mother has been in a right state this past week," Helios continued, laying on new guilt with seeming impersonal ease. "She threatened to go to the Minister and order that the whole government be shut down until you were found."

"Well, you found me," Astoria muttered childishly, casting her gaze off to the side.

"Indeed I have. Alive, if not completely sound," he replied.

"Well…I'm not going back," she said stubbornly.

"So you have proclaimed," he answered quickly. "What you have yet to state is why."

Astoria opened her mouth to speak determinedly, but she immediately swallowed her words. What on earth could she possibly tell this man? She had no desire to reveal the specifics of her life. Speaking such things out loud was far too personal, and made her surreal past much more present. She didn't care if no one understood her, or if they thought that she had over reacted. Leaving is what she had to do. She might be in a pathetic state as of yet, but she knew there was nothing left for her at home.

"I needed a change of venue," she finally stated. "There were too many…distractions in England. I am very close to perfecting my potion, and have decided that America will provide me ample opportunity and support for my venture."

"And in this…dwelling you believe that you can embrace this land of opportunity? There doesn't seem to be much room for your lab work, and I am quite certain the owners of this fine establishment won't be too keen on you adding a greenhouse to the roof," he pointed out, raising a bushy gray eyebrow.

"Details," Astoria replied steadfastly, causing Helios to elicit a chuckle.

"And what of your mother? I will eventually have to reveal your location to her," he stated.

"She is more than welcome to visit if she wishes. I mean, as soon as I can find a place big enough to where I don't actually have to see her when she stays."

"And our Daphne? The two of you have always been close." Helios' comments now seemed to be more of simple inquiries than prompters of guilt, and she found the last of her anger disappearing as she reasoned out her stay.

"I will immediately start a correspondence with her," Astoria conceded.

"How about young Mister Malfoy?" he asked, with a garnish of self-interest.

"What about him?" Astoria replied definitely, pressing her pale lips thin.

"I see," Helios replied, dropping the topic immediately after securing an answer. "Well, what am I supposed to do? My memory may not be what it used to be, but I do recall saying that I could not have you running off, casting society to the side and ruining our family standing."

"You also said that you had neither the energy nor inclination to chase after me after I decided to run off," she answered, pushing her luck the best she could. Helios' swollen face cracked a small smile at the comment.

"That I did, and yet here we are," he chuckled at himself. "But, that being said, I can still force you to come back, perhaps setting up a marriage to get you settled."

Astoria was silent for a while, and for a moment all that could be heard was the obnoxious cry of the birds outside.

"You have to do what you have to do," she said slowly. "But so do I."

She stared at him firmly. There was no menace in her gaze, no threat. She was simply stating how it was, how it would be, and that she would not be contained nor changed.

"I see," Helios replied, nodding slightly. "Well then I suppose we have but one course of action." He reached into his desk and pulled out a sealed envelope. He stared at it in brief amusement for a moment before sliding it across the desk to her.

"What is this," she asked hesitantly, afraid that he had handed her some sort of contract. He simply nodded at her, commanding her to open it. Though silent, her hand shook slightly upon breaking the seal. She held her breath, expecting the worse, until her eyes fell down the page.

The parchment fell out of her shocked hands on to the desk as she stared in complete incredulity.

"1,000,000 Galleons?" she stuttered, re-reading the page over as though she had seen it wrong _**(PS- that is over 10 million American dollars or 5 million UK pounds. I looked it up :) **__**).**_ "What is this?"

"Yours," Helios replied simply. Astoria's face dropped as she reached her first conclusion.

"Are you trying to bribe me to come back?" she demanded fiercely. Helios once again laughed at her comment.

"If I intended on forcing you back I would not need money to do so," he explained. "That money is yours. It always has been. It is a portion of your inheritance."

"Inheritance?" she repeated, a sinking sensation flooding her stomach.

"Yes. I know customarily it is given after my demise, but I would like to believe that I can be at least some form of help alive," he answered.

Astoria stared at the sum, and for a brief moment she thought of all the things she could do with that money. She could get her own lab, finance a trip to the Amazon, live in a place that didn't reek of piss…

But then she stepped back, and felt guilt and deflation consume her. As wonderful and perfect a gesture as that was, despite the fact that this would answer all of her problems, her buried conscious hindered her from accepting.

"I can't take this money," she sighed, handing the paper back. Helios arched his eyebrow.

"And why not?" he inquired. "It is your right as an heir, and my decision as your father when and how much to give you."

Astoria shook her head, angry tears welling in her eyes.

"How can you _not _know?" she demanded, years of resentment and repression finally exploding. After everything that had happened to her, everything she had lost, and all the dirty little secrets she had collected over her lifetime, she had no energy or censor to protect her first and largest skeleton any further.

"You shouldn't be giving me an inheritance. It is not mine to receive," she continued.

"And why is that?" he asked again calmly. "Because you do not believe yourself to be my daughter?"

Astoria froze again, her mouth dropping in shock. She had no idea what it was he was implying, and could only stare at him listlessly as she waited for an answer.

"You seem surprised," Helios observed, revealing nothing further.

"I…I'm not sure what you just said," she admitted. "I mean…just look at us. There is no way…"

"I am quite aware of what you look like. Of _who_ you look like. I may not be the most observant man but you did live in my house for eighteen years," he answered.

"Then…then you do know…" Astoria stuttered, still without a handle on the direction of the conversation.

"That your mother got inebriated and then knocked up by the Potions teacher? Yes, such a fact has not escaped my attention."

"But…but…" Astoria continued to ramble, her known world crashing down around her as she realized that a secret that had henceforth ruled her life was not a secret at all. "But if you knew…why haven't you said anything? Why did you not throw us out on to the streets? Why did you even let her have me?"

It was Helios's turn to sigh, and he looked at Astoria with a wary eye before answering.

"It is a complicated story, one I had hoped to keep to myself for prosperity purposes. But I am old, and seeing as I am trying to convince you to accept a small fortune from me, I suppose that gives me leverage to be brutally honest with you," he prefaced, sitting back in his chair as he told his tale.

"I know that you will not like hearing this, but you and your mother are a lot alike. You both have this stubborn and wild spirit that cannot be contained by others. Even if you accept the fact that it is self-destructive, your way is the only way. The only difference is your mother hasn't a tenth of your intelligence and none of your self-discipline," he explained. "When we got married she was an uncontrollable nightmare. She was openly defiant, partied far too hard, and argued with me every chance she got. When she had Daphne I had hoped that motherhood would tie her down to earth a bit. She did love the baby, but she continued her shameful and deviant ways. Divorce was not an option, especially with a child already born, and I had given up any hope of ever getting any peace for the rest of my life. But then…well, I suppose you could say a miracle happened. Your mother discovered she was pregnant with you, conceived in a drunken one-night-stand with that Severus Snape."

"That was a miracle?" Astoria interrupted. "I would have been bloody pissed!"

"And I was at first," he assured. "But then I started to realize the opportunity that lay in front of me. Almost overnight Phoebe changed her ways. A bastard child born to her would ostracize her from her precious society. Those were grounds to kick her to the curb, completely impoverished. Her family would not take her in, nor any of her friends, as they would risk their own disgrace. She knew I knew of the pregnancy, but I believe she hoped that I was oblivious to her affair. Her only chance was to promote that lie and present you as my child. She suddenly became obsessed with being the perfect wife and became a much more attentive mother. I knew that in my position and power no one would dare challenge the claim if I accepted you as my own. So I decided to play along. No longer would I have to deal with a messy divorce, or leave Daphne without a mother. I could have my peace and the wife I wanted, one who handled the house and the family respectively. I have continued such peace by periodically appearing to change my will after she starts to act up, and keeping her from ever seeing what she is getting."

"Well I'm glad that my years of constant ridicule and abuse allowed for you to have peace and quiet!" Astoria shouted. "I'm glad I was an easy fucking way to tie down your wife!"

"Astoria, life is all about the choices we make, and accepting the consequences," Helios explained patiently. "Your mother knew what was expected of her when she agreed to marry me. She never carried any romantic notions in her head about love, all she wanted was security and to get her way. All I wanted was to have an heir and to lead a quiet life. Your mother chose to act the way she did, and she chose to accept the silent agreement of what was required of her to stay after making her mistake."

"Wonderful," Astoria spat. "Glad you're happy."

"I am at a loss as to why you are so irritated," Helios stated.

"You just basically told me I was just a convenience for you!" she exclaimed. "That's what every child wants to hear!"

"They should," he replied simply. "Children are rarely ever convenient for their parents. But even if you do find that concept offensive, I do not see why you are mad at me."

"You're unbelievable!" she accused, folding her arms flat. "You don't expect me to be upset over…"

"Have I treated you badly?" Helios interrupted tolerantly. "Have I treated you any differently than I have Daphne?"

Astoria shut her mouth, chewing over his response.

"You may not be of my blood, but that, as you would say, is just a detail," he explained. "You were given my name and for the most part have worn it honorably. I have raised you, fed you, and provided for you the same as I have for your sister. That had been my intention from the start, especially if I were to convince the world of my ignorance. But, plan or no plan, I have never had to act to achieve this. You possess an intelligence that far surpasses anything I or your mother could have given you. You have not complained about your lot and instead have fought tooth and nail to survive. At the same time, however, you have been basically respectful of your family and kept the secret. You are hardworking and amazingly ingenious. Loony as your mother as well, but that is part of what makes you you. In short, I have enjoyed you in my life. And though I know Daphne is my own it is in you that I see a great future, and it is you that I rest my hopes upon. I could not care for you any more than if you were my biological daughter, and I could not be prouder of you than if you were my own son."

Never in her life had Astoria ever expected such a thing from this man. She was completely blown away that so much thought and attention had gone into his keeping her in his life. He really did see her as a daughter, just like in spite of everything she would always refer to him as her father. She was suddenly filled with a mixture of emotions she couldn't quiet handle. She felt immense gratitude and affection for the man who despite years of indifference somehow seemed to understand her better than anyone else in her family. He had supplied her with the means to achieve her goals twice now, and she would always be grateful for that. At the same time however, she also felt a nagging feeling that perhaps she didn't understand people and the world as well as she thought she did. She had been wrong about Snape, wrong about her mother, and now had been shown that she had been wrong about Helios. This inability to correctly read people's motives was something she knew she needed to mull over at another time.

But mostly she just felt an overwhelming relief. Whether it was for the money, the recognition, or just from the realization that she would be able to continue with her dream lifted a huge burden off her chest. Now she could fully focus on her needs and obtain what she had always wanted. She suddenly had to fight off the intense urge to cry, and winced as she tried to suppress her sobs.

"Well what is the matter now?" Helios asked with light affection.

"Nothing," she responded with a smile. "This has been such a nice moment. I would hate to ruin it with being emotional."

Helios released his own smile, and placed his hand firmly on her shoulder.

"I know that we are not technically related, but sometimes it amazes me at how similar we are," he expressed tenderly.

"I think I just adopted your defense mechanisms for ignoring Mother when I didn't have the energy to fight her," she responded. "In any case, it's a prime example of nature vs. nurture."

"Indeed," he agreed, giving a weak but affectionate squeeze before removing his hand. "Well at any rate you are now safe, and free to do whatever the hell you like."

"Yeah, thanks for that," she smiled, grabbing her line of credit as he walked to the door.

"My pleasure. But before I leave…" Helios let his sentence hang in the air, as though struggling with his thoughts.

"Yes?" Astoria prompted, feeling she should have known there would be a caveat somewhere along the way. Helios cleared his throat.

"I will not pretend to know what it is that you have gone through, nor will I pretend to understand it. Only you know what is best for you, and you have always done what you have needed to do. However, just know that no matter how much distance you collect there are some things you just can't run away from," he stated.

Astoria stood quietly, watching him linger at the door.

"I can always try," she admitted weakly, looking down at the ground.

"Yes, my dear. You sure can," he replied, smiling sadly. "Well good luck, keep in touch, and for Merlin's sake find yourself a proper place to live in this hell hole of a city."

"Yes, Father. I will."

They nodded at each other curtly and Astoria watched as he Disapperated. Once alone she quickly ran back inside. She instantly shut out all the lingering emotions, good and bad, and focused on what she could do now that she had so much wealth. She would invest it, of course, and with it she would complete and profit off her potion. She found herself filled with a wild energy, and she could not wait until morning where she could go out apartment hunting.

But then it dawned on her that she was embarking on a life where she was truly alone. Eventually perhaps she would build relationships with others, but for the time being it was only her. For a moment she felt incredibly saddened at such a thought, and released a wish that somehow there could be some form of companion she could embark on this next stage of life with.

She was torn from her thoughts by a desperate squawk from her balcony. A loud bang and a deep growl were heard, and then suddenly there was silence. For the first time in two weeks there was actual silence. For some reason the horns did not honk, music did not blare, and the ever-chirping birds seemed to have vanished.

Astoria looked out the sliding door window and found herself facing the cause of such a silent state. The mangy matted cat stared back at her, his whiskers covered in blood, feathers stuck to his fur, and a fat dead bird sitting at his feet. The cat scooted back once, nodded at his gift to her, and looked up expectantly.

"You are a little bugger, aren't you?" she inquired as she opened the door, getting a feeling that somehow the creature had sensed a vulnerable state about her and had simply been biding his time. The cat did not bother to respond, and simply swaggered into the cool dry room and away from the hassles of his past life.

**_(A/N: SOOOOO, I guess I can kind of anticipate a lot of WTF reviews on this chapter, if not a few people perhaps punching out their computer screens and following up on those death threats that have been issued if I decided to give up on the story. I can imagine probably no one really expected this particular direction. I know everyone wanted Draco to be the one at the door and for things to be resolved. But all I can say is that Astoria needs this. She needs to be able to develop herself uninhibited from her family or her past. I know this is a love story, but I have always tried to make it more about life as a whole and not just about relationships. Lol, that got a little preachy. Anywho, if nothing else just hang on, and if you keep with me I promise to do my absolute best not to disappoint. I'm not gonna lie, I am pretty tickled at how I planned out the last few chapters :)_**

**_-Love, JustAudrey07 (unless you really do want to kill me, and in that case my name is Holly Golightly.) _**


	26. Daphne's Letter and Hermione's Surprise

Daphne's Letter and Hermione's Surprise

**_(A/N: So FF was kinda screwy today. Sorry for filling your boxes with notifications of updates only to lead you to an empty page. Hopefully it was worth the even longer than usual wait)_**

The door to the snug and over-crowded café flung open as yet another shopper rushed inside to escape the bitter winter cold. Snowflakes clung to the plum jacket of the establishment's newest inhabitant as they timidly looked around. They were paid no mind as they began to peel their plentiful layers off their body as they enjoyed the warmth from the roaring fire. This person in particular however seemed to go about the process much slower than most, as if afraid to reveal just what lay under their all-encompassing pea coat.

Daphne Greengrass looked about the crowd nervously. She wasn't sure why she felt like she had done something wrong. She had just gone shopping and to the beauty parlor. That's what she tried to tell herself anyways. In actuality she had done much more than that.

She had bought and worn a dress and a pair of boots her mother never would have approved of. And then in a second act of rebellion she had gotten her hair cut and styled in a manner of her own preference.

This was perhaps the biggest day of her life. For the last twenty-one years her mother had picked out her every outfit and fussed with her every lock. But that day she had decided to take matters into her own hands, and with either a stroke of bravery or insanity she had adopted drastic personal changes.

She finally took off her outer garments to reveal her newest purchase. Instantly she expected ridicule; people expressing she was too fat for such an ensemble, or that men would walk up to her assuming she was some kind of scarlet woman.

But she received no such reaction. Far from it, for when she approached a table that had been recently vacated by a happy couple, the young woman turned to her and smiled.

"I love your dress!" she exclaimed.

"Oh. Oh! Thank you!" Daphne gushed.

She had never felt so elated. She turned quickly to face the mirror that hung above her table, and for the first time saw her reflection with a sense of pride. Once out of the baggy, shapeless dresses her mother forced her into, Daphne was able to see that she had lost some weight. Once more, the aqua colored dress she wore complimented her body type perfectly. No longer did she look like a mass of flesh, but a woman with curves. The color contrasted well to her auburn hair, which now hung in short but vivacious curls that framed her face and made her eyes pop.

She almost did not recognize herself, and she sat down with a happy squeal as she allowed herself to feel beautiful for the first time in her life. She barely paid attention as she placed her order for a hot chocolate, and instead dug into her purse to pour over the source of courage she had received in the morning's post.

She was so consumed with this that she was completely unaware of the man across the shop that had been unable to take his eyes off her since the moment she walked in. He had noticed her before today, but had never found it within him to speak to her. But somehow even his mind could grasp the concept of fate and he instantly conceived of a plan, despite never having done such a thing before.

He stood up and offered his table to a snow soaked trio who had just rushed into the shop. Now every single seat in the place was occupied, all except the one next to her. Taking a deep breath he walked towards her, trying his best not to knock into anything and hoping he would find some words to say as he approached.

"Uh…hullo," he grunted, opting for the first thing that came to mind.

"Oh! Well hello! I haven't seen you in a while," she greeted, flashing her perfectly straight teeth.

"Well I've been right over there," he stated, pointing to the back corner.

"Oh. Gosh it's crowded in here!" she exclaimed, as if noticing the rest of the room for the first time.

"Yeah. Um, is there any way I can eat my muffin here?" he asked, showing her his plate.

"Oh! Of course you can!" she smiled, happy to have some familiar company. She moved her purse off the chair and motioned for him to sit. Grinning in victory, he grabbed the seat and sat down proudly.

"Er…so, whatchya got there?" he asked, pointing to the parchment in her hands.

"It's my newest letter!" she proclaimed. "I just got it this morning. It's from… my sister."

Daphne's excitement steadily deflated as she realized just who she was talking to. Her new companion shifted uncomfortably, not having made this connection earlier and unsure how to handle such a dynamic. There was a straining silence at the table, and for a moment he wondered if he should simply cut his losses and slump away.

"How is…Draco?" Daphne inquired quietly; as though she weren't quite sure she had the authority to ask.

"Dunno," he replied honestly. "I haven't seen much of him since the summer. He works a lot."

"Well I would imagine so," she offered helpfully. "He must be terribly busy. I read about his company going public last week, and how people are lining up to buy Cavalier Enterprises stock."

"Yeah. But…" he paused, wondering if he should continue.

"But what?" she inquired, tilting her head to the side so her hair fell lightly across her face. He suddenly felt as though he couldn't help but answer her.

"Well, he's been really different since she left," he explained. "He…it's kinda like Sixth Year all over again, when he was working on his task. He's not scared or nothin', but he's just, I dunno, out of it. Like all he sees is work."

"Oh," Daphne replied, bowing her head in sadness at the thought.

"What about your sister?" he asked quickly, trying to change the subject. "How is she?"

"I wish I knew more," she admitted. "I haven't seen her in the six months she has been gone. Mother visited her once. She has a beautiful flat overlooking a great park in the middle of the city. Right now she's in Brazil, and she just wrote that she thinks she's found the answer to her potion problem."

"Wow!" he replied, not quite sure what she was talking about, but excited by the excitement none the less.

"Yeah! But, still, I worry about her. And it doesn't look like she is coming home any time soon," she confided, frowning at the prospect.

"Why not?" he asked, his hand twitching to grab hers in order to comfort. He squashed that impulse, and instead looked at her earnestly.

"I asked her once. She wrote back that she had a long way to get before she got back home," she answered.

"Oh," he replied, chewing on his tongue ignorantly. "I dunno what that means."

"I think she meant she had to find herself, and in order to do that she had to get lost," Daphne suggested.

"Er…" he grunted, trying his hardest to wrap his head around the concept. Luckily Daphne simply smiled and patted his hand, causing all the frustration to quickly melt away.

"I don't think _she_ even knows what she is doing," Daphne grinned. "But sometimes you just have to do what you have to do. And I've found that all rather inspiring."

"Really?" he asked in interest, happy to once again understand the direction of the conversation.

"Yes! Astoria is so courageous. She has gone off and forged a whole new life for herself. I would have never thought someone could leave and do all these wonderful things! But she has, and it got me thinking that I should take more control over my own life!" Daphne blushed deeply after saying this, realizing that she had probably revealed too much.

"Not that I am saying that forging the Amazon and getting a new haircut is the same thing…"

"No, I get it," he interrupted quickly. Daphne looked at him in surprise.

"I mean, you are doing something for you, just for you, and you should, you know, be proud of that," he continued.

"Yeah! I am. And I know that I shouldn't get so excited over new clothes and a silly haircut, but I feel really good!" she exclaimed.

"You should. You're beautiful."

He immediately scrunched his face and buried his head in his hands. How could he have said something so bluntly stupid? He could only imagine the look of disgust she would have after hearing such a comment from him.

But, when he finally raised his head, he saw her staring at him strangely. And not the bad kind of strange, but the kind where her eyes got all wide and her small smile conveyed a happiness much larger than its size. And, for once, he looked at a girl and realized he had said something right.

"Thank you," she giggled softly, looking down at the table. Once again they sat in silence, but neither of them could help but notice it was the good kind.

"Your muffin looks tasty," she finally said, smiling at him happily.

"Uh…it was the last one," he admitted sadly. "Here!"

He pushed the plate over to her, nodding emphatically that she take it.

"I shouldn't," she proclaimed bashfully. "I'd feel bad. Plus I've been working really hard to eat well."

"Uh…well how about this?" He took the muffin in his hands and broke it apart, handing her a piece on the plate while he left his on the table.

"You should eat tasty things. It makes life good. Besides, it's all about portion control."

Daphne looked at him for a moment and then started to laugh. He was unsure if she laughed at what he said or at him, but in that instance he found he really didn't care. He liked the sound of it. He liked it even more when she continued to want to talk to him.

Hermione shuffled stressfully through her endless stacks of parchment, rethinking their organization yet again. Up above her the ceiling shined brightly with a welcoming sun that mimicked the perfect yet fleeting weather outside. She knew that in a matter of hours that happy orb would soon fall behind the horizon, marking another full day spent thirty feet underground without feeling nature's light on her face.

She sighed as she checked her watch. She knew she should relax and pack up. Harry and Ron would be there soon to steal her away and make sure she joined in on the festivities. There was not much more she could do anyways. Tomorrow was a major holiday and the entire Ministry would be shut down as the Wizarding world both celebrated and mourned the tremendous occasion. She probably should have left already, seeing as there were a countless number of places clamoring to see her on a week like this. Merlin knows she could use a day off…

But she couldn't be torn away from her work. She was so close. For weeks she had been tearing through the Ministry's tight budget for a way to find the funds for reparations. This was perhaps the most sickening and principle-straying thing she had ever had to do. These reparations were not to be directed at the sentient beings that had had their lives and labors stolen from them for generations, but to the people who had owned them, enslaved them. It was only with a form of reimbursement for their "lost goods" were the masters of the House-Elves willing to set them free. Hermione had been able to collect a vast sum for her cause, but she still fell drastically short. And the longer she took to gather money the more restless and stubborn the families got.

The Ministry was on her side for the most part. After the fall of Voldermort the people wanted to strengthen unions between wizards and non-human creatures in order to prevent another war. However when it came to the House-Elves specifically there wasn't quite the outrage and demand for freedom as she would have hoped. Many people seemed supportive, but their purse strings had already been tugged on harder than comfort dictated when it came to being taxed for rebuilding. Many would rather see the funds go to Hogwarts or to the families who suffered under the regime. The treatment of House Elves was pretty low on the list.

Of course Hermione sympathized and believed that these things were important, but she still remained frustrated. She had chosen to champion this cause because it received so little attention. She had hoped her new found clout would bring about change and that she would enjoy the challenge. She was certain that if she just kept on it she would bring about the change she knew was needed. But until then she absolutely hated kissing up to the rich and ignorant families who scoffed at the idea of giving their servants rights. It was as though she had asked them to give their dining room tables voting privileges.

All intent of leaving to join Ron and Harry in the festivities flew out the proverbial window as she lost herself in her thoughts. She began avidly sorting out her options and planning her next moves without an inclination to look at the time. She was so wrapped up in her own head she failed to notice the smirking figure that leaned nonchalantly against her open office door.

"Happy anniversary," he said, startling Hermione so thoroughly she actually jumped. She worked quickly to hide her surprise as she realized who addressed her.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed, quickly rising to her feet. "What are you doing here?"

"What, an old school chum can't just drop by and say hello?" he inquired smugly, waltzing into her office without invitation.

"I would hardly categorize us as "old school chums"," Hermione snapped, checking her back pocket to make sure her wand was easily accessed.

"To each their own, I expect," he replied with a shrug.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated angrily, in no mood to deal with the likes of him right now.

"Color me nostalgic, but I felt the sudden urge to reminisce about all the good times we've shared," he continued, his voice light. "After all, it is the four year anniversary of when the world was righted, the Dark Lord defeated, and all the low lives like me were rounded up for a hearty serving of justice."

"I have absolutely no time and even less desire to ever speak to you ever," she proclaimed, walking around her desk in a huff.

"I fail to see why you're so worked up," Draco responded coolly. "I haven't done anything wrong. Recently, anyhow. In fact I've spent the last four years paying off my debt to society for being on the losing side. Literally. And now I have the Ministry so far up my arse when it comes to my business I'm surprised an Auror doesn't pop out of my mouth every time I yawn."

"Lovely. Sometimes I worry about our Ministry and its justice system," Hermione shot back, pushing past him to get to one of her filing cabinets.

"As do I," Draco agreed, looking around her cramped office with a scoff. "So this is the office the Ministry gives to its most celebrated heroine? I suddenly feel like I'm much better off having lost."

"For your information, Draco, I chose this office!" she exploded, more than happy to release some of her pent up frustrations on someone like Malfoy. "I actually want to continue to do something meaningful with my life, instead of being a complete prat. I'm not interested in getting rich off other people's ideas. The Dobby Remembrance and Elf Action Movement is what I feel like I can do to make the world a better place."

"The Dobby Remembrance?' Draco repeated, a bit of confusion invading his aloof face. "You mean you named your foundation after my clumsy, stupid little House Elf? That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard."

If Hermione had been upset before, she was now livid beyond words.

"You take that back!" she demanded, staring him defiantly in the face. "Dobby was one of the bravest and most loyal individuals I have ever met! You could never hope to even have a tenth of his good character, you worthless, cowardly snake! I can't believe you have the nerve to come to my office and act in such a manner after all we've done for you, you bastard!"

Draco stared at her for a moment, his face stoic after her verbal attack.

"You're not going to punch me again, are you?" he asked, a sly smile forming on his face.

Hermione was not sure why, but somehow between how he asked the question and the memory from Third Year caused her to pause and nearly laugh. She stifled this desire, and instead settled for the smallest of smiles and a reduction in her intense tone.

"Possibly," she retorted. "Depends on how badly you irritate me."

"Well I'd prefer it if you didn't," he stated, his lip curled in a slight grin. "It hurt, and my nose still crackles every time it rains."

"You deserve a far harsher fate than that," she countered, folding her arms.

"You're probably right," he replied quietly, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hermione took a step back, and stared at him as though she had never seen him before. Just a month shy of twenty-two his face had strengthened, and a light dusting of facial hair made him look much less pointed. He was no longer deathly pale but harbored a healthy and maintained glow. Though quick to take his tone for his old selfish and superior character, Hermione seemed to notice something new. Almost something akin to humility, or as close to humility as a Malfoy could get.

"So, the Dobby Remembrance and Elf Action Movement," he repeated, letting the long title roll off his tongue to sever the silence. "D.R.E.A.M. You're getting better with your acronyms."

Hermione's mouth almost dropped at the statement.

"Why Draco, that almost sounded like a compliment," she replied, taken aback. Draco merely shrugged.

There was something different about him, she thought to herself. This wasn't quite the same Draco she had known at school. Which was to be expected, as all people changed between the ages of 18 and 22. But this brief meeting had opened up the idea that perhaps Draco had changed in a way she had never thought possible. She was now fascinated by the instance. He hadn't come by to fight or gloat, but neither did he seem keen on talking about anything in particular. He just continued to stand there, looking to the side as he stood in her office almost awkwardly.

Hermione was about to ask once again what it was he wanted, when her eyes caught a crumpled edition of this morning's Daily Prophet folded into his robe pocket. Instantly Draco's sudden and strange appearance became clear. She could not stop herself from feeling pity towards him.

"She's in New York, you know," Hermione stated, staring at him sadly. Draco let out a muted and exasperated laugh.

"I am quite aware of where she is," he replied as he continued to look to the side.

"Oh," Hermione breathed, slightly disappointed to hear this.

"The whole world knows where she is now," he continued, throwing the edition down on her desk so it unrolled. A full length article lay out before them, with a picture of a long haired, tight lipped, but completely victorious looking Astoria all but smirking back at them.

Hermione looked at the page for a moment, having read the article in-depth this morning and hearing firsthand about the news a month or so before.

"She had written to me telling me she had finished," Hermione confided without being asked. "It seems medical journals are calling it the miracle potion of the century. She even offered to send Harry a bottle in case he ever wanted his scar wiped off his forehead."

At the time the joking gesture had been a bit of a laugh, but from the looks of it the comment seemed to cause Draco a great deal of agony.

"She got her dream," he said aloud, though the statement hardly seemed directed at her. "This is what she always wanted. To create something that had never been created before. All on her own."

He let the comment hang in the air painfully.

"Did you ever try and go after her?" Hermione pried, having always wondered what had happened since she discovered Astoria's hasty departure.

Draco scoffed again.

"She moved to another hemisphere to get away from me," he muttered angrily. "I can take the hint."

"You never even tried!" Hermione exclaimed. "You never even thought about…"

"I think about it every day," he interjected quietly. Hermione was silenced as she absorbed the gravity of that statement.

"Then why…why not go after her? Bring her back?" Hermione wondered.

"She's clearly doing fine without me," he expressed bitterly.

"You don't mean that…"

"Yes, I do," he interjected. "She's got what she always wanted. All I ever did was hold her back. It's true. I didn't mean to but I did. Her leaving me was the best decision she ever made."

Hermione opened her mouth for rebuttal but then immediately closed it. Was she actually about to try and make Draco Malfoy feel better? The same Draco Malfoy who had bullied her and her friends at school, and who actively (if not cowardly) supported the idea of genocide? Why she hadn't cursed him out of her office was beyond her…

Actually, it wasn't. Though they had very limited interactions, Hermione missed Astoria. She had been a unique kind of friend. And as for Draco…well, perhaps it was the romantic in her, but she couldn't help but believe that all the good suspicions she had about him were because of her impact.

"Well what about now?" Hermione asked. "If you've realized where you went wrong why not try and go back and fix them?"

"Because I choose to live in reality," he replied. "She doesn't want me. I'd just be wasting my time."

"But what if you tried…"

"I did try!" he shouted, losing his cool for the first time. "Eight months ago. I realized that…well, it doesn't matter. I went to New York, found her flat, and was about to try and talk to her when I saw a man leaving her private entrance. At 7 in the morning."

Another pained silence rang through her tiny office.

"Clearly," he concluded, with strained calm, "she's already over me."

"I hate to form a chink in your chain of logic," Hermione replied, "but you're wrong."

Draco raised his eyes, as though secretly hearing what he had sought.

"What do you mean?" he asked pressingly.

"She hasn't come back to Britain," she stated simply. Draco's hope seemed to damper on the statement.

"I expected much more from you, Granger," he grumbled in disappointment.

"She hasn't returned," she expanded, "because coming back home means facing her old life without you. And that hurts too much."

Draco remained quiet, absorbing this new idea.

"She told you that?" he inquired.

"She didn't have to," Hermione replied. Draco made a face, seemingly unsatisfied with her answer, though it was clear that he might just be desperate enough to hope for some truth.

"Has she ever written anything about…"

"You?" Hermione guessed.

"Or anyone else male," he continued flatly.

"No," she answered firmly. Draco's countenance brightened slightly.

"And…is she… happy?"

"No. I really don't think she is."

This response did not give Draco the same thrill as the first one did. He hung his head as though it were being pulled down by a lead weight.

"You're a stubborn, cowardly idiot," Hermione proclaimed. "You both are."

"Sometimes we're meant to chase after our dreams," he replied, staring at her office's official stationary. "Other times we just have to let them fade away."

"And have the thoughts and pains of losing Astoria faded away?" Hermione asked, folding her arms across her chest.

"No," he replied sadly. "Far from it."

Hermione's face fell into a complete look of pity as she couldn't help but feel sorry for the way things had turned out. Draco too seemed completely at a loss. He had left himself completely vulnerable in front of one of his old nemesis, yet when it came to talking about Astoria he couldn't think of anyone else to converse with to get some answers. He was desperately seeking for some closure, and after the surprise in the paper he had tossed his pride to the side to try and find some.

But all he had received was further guilt and sorrow.

The two of them stood in the middle of her tiny office, looking at each other hopelessly. Hermione could tell Draco wanted to ask more questions about Astoria. She got the distinct notion that he had never talked to anyone in depth about her disappearance. Ever. She tried to imagine the pain of losing Ron. That in and of itself was soul crushing. But to lose him and go almost an entire year without speaking to anyone about it, without getting some security from her friends and family? That would be completely unbearable. No one could handle that for long. And Hermione could see from his desperate actions this morning that he was no longer able to take it.

She was completely at a loss of what to do. If this had been a friend, a stranger even, she would have offered to go grab some tea and talk about it further. Even if she had the inclination to ask Draco to further divulge about his feelings she knew he never would, especially not to her. Her brain buzzed as she tried to figure out something she could say…

But then she noticed him staring at her. She at first expected it to be a malicious or smirking stare, as those had been all she had received from him at school. But there was nothing malevolent in his gaze. Instead he held of look of muted curiosity. He tilted his head a bit, as though figuring out a puzzle. Hermione had never felt so awkward or self-conscious in her adult life. At least not until he started laughing at her.

Once again it wasn't a cruel or smug laugh, but a genuine chuckle with a tone that bordered endearing.

"What, what's so funny?" she inquired, tensing up defensively.

"You have…you have…" he struggled to choke out his words as he continued to laugh, "dried bat guano in your hair."

"OH!" Hermione cursed, throwing her hands up into her hair. "I went to the Magical Creature's Reserve this morning before work to pick up their monthly donation!"

"You're telling me that you've been walking around all day with shit in your hair?" he asked, all but doubled over in laughter.

"It's not funny!" she proclaimed, spinning around her office looking for a mirror she didn't have, running her fingers through her hair like crazy.

"Here. Just…stop. Sit still," Draco commanded. He came up to her and very gently started combing through her locks to pull the guano off. Hermione froze. She had never been this close to him before. He too seemed stiff and as if he were fighting a deeper instinct not to help. It was awkward, to be sure, but she couldn't help but notice how…polite…it was.

"I didn't realize you had so much," Draco muttered moments later as he continued his work diligently.

"I have that much guano?" she moaned, besides herself of how she had gone all day without noticing.

"That too," he replied. "But I was actually referring to your hair. I always said you were a bushy haired know it all, I just never realized how right I actually was."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, though she couldn't help but smirk.

"That's funny, I was just about to say the exact opposite of yours. Is it getting a bit thin on top?" she replied innocently.

She was answered with a sudden tug of her hair.

"Sorry," he apologized distantly. "Tangles."

They both grinned to themselves as he continued the process.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow!" she cried.

"Sorry!" he repeated, this time more genuinely. "Now there are _actual _tangles. But it's the last little piece I need to get."

"Ow!" she cringed again. Draco moved his free hand to brace her head still.

"You've got to start using a better conditioner," he muttered, working his fingers through her curls as they started to bunch up like a rat's nest.

"Ow!" was all she had to say to him. She knew Draco was about to reply when suddenly her half closed door blew wide open as two people charged into the room.

"Let her go, Malfoy!"

Hermione and Draco snapped their heads to the door to see Ron and Harry pointing their wands at his head, looks of outrage, loathing, and fear mixed into both of their faces. Draco clutched Hermione close to him instinctively, as if to use her as a barrier or bargaining tool. Hermione turned to face him. He immediately let go.

"Perfect timing, as usual," Draco stated, throwing up his hands casually as his tone dripped in sarcasm.

Ron pulled Hermione close to him while Harry's wand stayed outstretched.

"Let me go!" Hermione demanded, shaking off the hold. Ron and Harry kept their protective stance.

"What did you want with her?" Ron demanded angrily, shaking with rage.

"Take your pick of crime," Draco answered lazily. "I'm sure you can come up with a much better scheme than I could have."

"He didn't want to do anything to me!" Hermione explained. "He was helping me!"

"And why should I believe that?" Ron snapped, as though Draco had said the words.

"Because I'm the one who told you!" she pressed, stepping into his line of vision and between his fixating stare on Malfoy. His face immediately dropped, almost all anger vanishing to be replaced with concern and confusion.

"But…he was hurting you," he said, dropping his voice low. Hermione did her best to calm down and give him a reassuring smile.

"No, he wasn't. I know it looked like he was, but it's all a very long story," she explained.

"Did he…did he place an Imperius on you…?" Ron asked in an extremely concerned whisper.

"Give it a rest, Weasley," Draco lazily replied. "You think I'm going to use an Unforgivable in the middle of the Ministry on one of Britain's favorite people? I've spent the last four years trying to stay _out_ of prison."

"No one asked you, Malfoy," Ron shouted.

"Besides," Draco continued, staring at Hermione with a smirk. "Even if I did try, give your girl a little more credit. There's no way I could over power her like that, even if the curse did hit."

A profound silence filled the room. For a moment the only movement was Harry finally dropping his arm. The trio stared at Draco, a million different things running through their heads.

"Not that I am not having a blast at our little reunion," Draco finally said, "but if we're done here I'd really like to go wash my hands."

Ron and Harry both turned to Hermione, at a loss of what to do.

"Let him go," she ordered simply. Harry and Ron then looked at each other for a moment. Neither of them liked what was happening, but they but seemed more than happy to have Malfoy go away. They stepped away from the entrance to let him pass. Draco moved forward, locking eyes with Ron as they shot the foulest looks they could at one another. But before he made it past Harry and the door, Draco stopped. He turned around slowly, looking down at first but then up to look her in the face. It looked to all like he was struggling to say something profound, but placed under such scrutiny he clammed up.

"Thanks…" he said shortly, keeping his eyes focused solely on her brown ones. And if that wasn't strange enough he added one more word.

"…Hermione."

Hermione flinched in surprise over him using her actual name. Once again she felt nothing but pity and sorrow for his loss. Draco nodded, and turned to leave out the door. Still having Harry to face, he was met with another look of complete surprise.

"Fuck off, Potter," Draco muttered, wiping his hand on Harry's shoulder and leaving behind a crusty guano mark.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ron demanded, spinning towards Hermione as soon as Draco was out of ear shot.

"He's in love," she stated simply and sadly.

"With you?" Ron inquired fiercely, looking out the door as though he were about to go track him down.

"Of course not!" Hermione replied in exasperation, head spinning from the whole thing. "He's in love with Astoria Greengrass."

"The Potion's Master from the Prophet?" Harry asked, cutting off Ron's inquiry. "The one who created a remedy for cursed scars?"

"Oh yeah, I heard about that," Ron said slowly. "Bill was talking…but what does she have to do with any of this?"

Hermione sighed before going into the story. First she explained the bat guano issue, which she knew would get laughs later, and then she went into the main feature. She reminded them that Astoria was her friend from the library. She told them how she had watched them get together, of the change for the better that had occurred in both of them for being with each other. Then she tried to explain Astoria's sudden disappearance, and how after a year she believed Draco had never talked to anyone about it.

"I just think that when he read the article in the paper about her it just brought all those feeling forward," she wrapped up. "He was already at the Ministry and I guess by whim came to my office because he knew we were friends and might keep in touch. He just wanted to know more about her."

"Wow," Harry whistled. "I never thought of Malfoy being hopelessly in love."

"I still don't buy it," Ron replied, still angry from the fight. "Draco is too much of a prat to care about anyone else like that."

"Ron, he's not Voldermort," Hermione pressed. "Everyone is capable of falling in love."

"Then serves him right, what happened to him." Ron muttered.

"Ronald!" Hermione gasped.

"What? Am I the only one who remembers all the things he and his family have done? What they did to you?" he pressed, causing silence to fill the office once more.

"He got off too easy here," he stated. "Let him be in pain. Same goes to girl who is daft enough to date Malfoy in the first place."

"Ron…"Hermione called out, sadly and helplessly. Ron still had nightmares about the incident at Malfoy Manor, and the last thing she wanted to do was cause him more pain.

"I know, I know," Ron said quickly, shaking his head. "It was wrong of me to say that. And you're right, he does seem to be different now. But he could become a saint and I'd still think him an asshole."

Harry and Hermione descended into laughter. Ron quickly joined, all of them happy to lose the tension.

"What do you think, mate?" Ron asked Harry. "You think Malfoy has turned over a new leaf?"

"Well," Harry replied, thinking deeply. "The Ministry has been watching his activities very closely. As far as we can tell he's running a legit business. That may only be because he knows we're watching, but still he's done nothing illegal. Far from it actually. Cavalier Enterprises pays its taxes, follows the law, and pays their employees better than most firms. He's attracted a lot of smart people to his business and it's doing very well. They even have the highest percentage of profit that feeds into charities."

"Well what a saint," Ron stated with a smug grin. Harry and Hermione laughed again. After checking over that Hermione was indeed okay, Harry excused himself to go find Ginny. Alone, Hermione quickly turned to embrace Ron.

"I'm so sorry if I upset you," she expressed, pulling him in tight. "I didn't invite him in and it was all just so strange and fast…"

"It's okay," Ron assured with a laugh, wrapping his arms around her. He soon after took her hand and led her to her desk top so they could sit.

"I'm not mad or upset at you, I never was," he explained. "It's just when I walked in…it just brought back a lot of bad stuff."

"I know," she replied. "And I still don't know why I wanted to help him."

"Ah, well we all want to believe people can change," Ron suggested. "Even complete wankers like Malfoy. Or especially, I should say."

"But I don't even think it's just that," she confided nervously. "I felt so bad for him, and I couldn't…well I couldn't stop thinking of what if that couple had been us, and how horrible that would have been."

Ron shook his head and set back on the desk confidently.

"That would never happen," he brushed off easily.

"But it could!" she expressed desperately. "They went from living together one day to never speaking or seeing each other the next!"

"That would never happen to us," Ron grinned. "Think about it. Draco obviously did something to piss her off. Since we've been dating have you ever been able to go more than a day without speaking to me and telling me _exactly_ what I've done to upset you in the clearest and most proficiently guilt-ridden manner?"

"Well…no," Hermione agreed, slumping her shoulders. Ron smiled, placing his hand on her thigh tenderly.

"And even if I did ever do something to send you running, do you really think I wouldn't instantly chase after you?"

Hermione smiled at the question and the adoring look her boyfriend had on his face. Instead of answering she simply grabbed his face and pulled him into a kiss. Ron kissed her back in happy oblige, running his hand along her waist while the other disappeared into her hair.

"Let's forget about Malfoy," he suggested after pulling away. "Harry and Ginny should be waiting for us at their house."

But instead of getting up Hermione pulled him back into another kiss. There was nothing sweet about it. It was a hungry, desperate need of a kiss. Ron locked his lips with hers and felt a jolt of energy and desire shoot down his body. Hermione continued to deepen the kiss until she began to pull them down onto her desk.

"Oh hell yes," Ron moaned, instantly deciphering the direction of the move and taking control. Hermione laughed as he scooped her legs up on to the desk, knocking off her carefully stacked parchments. Ron had always fantasied shagging in her office, but she always declined as it was unprofessional.

But at that moment she didn't care about propriety, or how much work she had spent ordering those papers. All that mattered was that Ron's hand continued to move up her leg, that his lips never left her body, and that she never had to worry about not feeling his warmth or heavy breaths against her skin.

All that mattered was that she had Ron and he had her. All that mattered was that in that instant one of the couples in the world was right where they needed to be, and that they shared an utterly perfect moment.

As for another couple in the world, they would have to wait another six months before they ever got an opportunity for the same.


	27. Let Me Know That I've Done Wrong

_Let Me Know That I've Done Wrong, When I've Know This All Along_

Hubris.

That was the only word she could think of as she stood rooted to the spot of her Apparition point. Hubris; the six letter word that so neatly described her dilemma as her mind raced uncontrollably and her body remained stationary. The haughty pride that had ruled her life stubbornly fueled her immobility. All she allowed herself to do was have the same internal fight she had been having for months.

She cursed, sending signals to her brain to magic her back, but stopping them before she followed through. She sighed, bit her lip, and tried to clear her mind.

"Ishmael is a stupid name," she muttered to no one. "I would not let people call me that."

Her mind did not clear, for the thought of hubris brought forth some story one of her ex-assistants had told her. Wizards in New York were much more Muggle-centric than their British counter-parts. The girl (she believed it was a girl, but she had fired so many assistants it was hard to be sure) had once rambled on about some American classic focused on pride and hubris. Something to do with a white whale.

Now all she could think about was how much a "white whale" sounded like a drink, and how badly she wished she had one.

She settled for dipping into her pocket and lighting her third cigarette since she had arrived. Inhaling deeply, she stared determinedly at the familiar foreignness of the landscape, focusing her eyes on her white whale of the night.

She knew what she had to do. She flicked her half-finished cigarette to the side and took her first step in thirty minutes.

The gate to Greengrass Gables opened without hesitation, recognizing Astoria despite her having not set foot upon English earth in nearly a year and a half.

* * *

Her childhood home was filled with vibrant activity. The classic décor was shined to its finest, and the dim glowing orbs signaling a social event flew gracefully overhead. The halls were filled with people, many of them the same as had inhabited them numerous times before. As Astoria quietly stood behind a suit of armor, she was unwittingly taken back to her years of adolescence where she had gone through great lengths to snub such society. It amazed her that after all she had accomplished she could still retain the bitter and self-conscious feelings of a thirteen year old.

Astoria held her breath as Estrid Flint carted around a massive, drooling toddler, reeking of waste as she waddled by. She had yet to be seen, though she doubted she could remain stealth for long. She recognized almost every one there, most of whom she could have gone the rest of her life without seeing again.

In that instant she regretted her return. She didn't belong here anymore, didn't _want_ to belong. She had gone against her better instincts coming back. Her own judgment had gotten her where she was today, and she knew wiser than to go against it.

She had formed a quick decision to dash away, when her eyes caught sight of her reason for coming. Daphne stood in the doorway with their mother, laughing happily as her hand stroked her elegant dress.

A wave of remorse rolled through her, and Astoria cast her hubris to the side and allowed the whale of an occasion to consume her.

"Astoria!" Daphne squealed, immediately quitting her chat with their mother to rush to her side. Astoria couldn't help but smile happily as her sister engulfed her in a hug.

"I'm sorry I'm so late," Astoria began, realizing that her dalliance outside pushed past a fashionable arrival.

"I knew you would come!" Daphne cried in glee. "Mother didn't believe me, but I kept telling Greg that I was sure of it!"

"Nice to know Mother still has so much faith in me," Astoria replied in old habit.

"Well I obviously failed to teach you how to properly R.S.V.P," a pursed voice replied. Astoria couldn't help but grin at the comment as she pried her sister's arms off of her so she could turn to face their mother.

"Mother, you're looking well," Astoria offered truthfully.

"Well I was in a rather joyous mood," Phoebe replied, stressing an undertone that her looks of displeasure were in direct correlation to Astoria's unannounced arrival. "It is not every day a mother gets to throw her daughter an engagement party. Especially when one expects it is the _only_ one she'll ever get to throw."

Astoria's wit having always been quick, she felt it a testament to her self-discipline that she did not respond harshly. For she could have just as easily reminded her mother that she had offered for her to plan the party celebrating Astoria's first potion success; an event that her mother not only declined to campaign but one which she had outright refused to attend.

But Astoria sacrificed the pleasure of self-righteousness and held her tongue. Tonight was not about her.

"Yes, well you seem to have out done yourself, Mother," Astoria replied diplomatically. "I apologize for not replying to the invitation sooner. I was only certain I could make it a few hours ago."

Astoria's mother cocked an eyebrow, apparently having expected a fight instead of an apology. Still not able to let the matter go, she grabbed her husband as he made his way to the bar.

"Heli, darling, look who finally decided to show up!" Phoebe exclaimed, taking her husband's arm and placing him right in front of their daughter.

"Ah, yes, Astoria," he stated, forgoing a greeting for instant business. "I have needed to speak with you."

His sentence was punctuated with a victorious smirk from his wife.

"You wouldn't by chance remember where I placed my favorite cigar cutter, would you? I haven't seen it in two years," he inquired. Phoebe's eyes bulged in disbelief.

"Last time I saw it was in the mantel drawer," she suggested with a smile.

"Ah, of course," Helios grunted, turning towards his new destination.

"Have you really nothing else to say?" his wife demanded.

"Hmm? Oh, of course. You look quite fetching tonight. Long hair suits you well," he stated, sending her the smallest of winks before taking off.

"Where is the indignation?" Phoebe commanded of his retreating back. "Are we just supposed to stand here and take this?"

"Oh, Astoria!" Daphne squealed again, clutching her once more and cutting off her mother's rant.

"You look so beautiful," Astoria replied, happy to change the attention back to the bride-to-be.

"But you must meet Greg!" Daphne insisted, pulling back with great energy. "Let me find him!"

Astoria watched her sister disappear into the crowded hall in search for her fiancé. It was only then that she noted the throngs of people staring at her, seemingly as amazed as her mother at sudden return from self-exile.

"You've got some nerve," her mother expounded, tapping her foot, "coming here after months of silence. Well if you think I am just going to forget about such an abuse, you have another thing coming. I have half a mind to never speak to you again!"

"Come Mother, do not tease me with such an enticement," Astoria joked.

"I mean it!" Phoebe continued irately. "You would not speak so lightly if you knew of the fury and outrage your perpetual absence has fueled me with…"

"I've missed you too, Mother," Astoria cut in. Thwarted of her attacks of guilt by every member of her family, Phoebe could only purse her lips in defeat. Such a grimace did not last long, as she finally allowed to succumb herself to rejoicing in the return of her youngest daughter.

"Fine!" Phoebe announced harshly. "Do whatever you like. It's not like you've ever even pretended to listen to me anyways."

She then flitted her eyes up and down the child she had not seen in over a year.

"Well at least one good thing has come from this," Phoebe spat.

"What is that?" Astoria asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It might have taken you going to another continent to do so, but you finally wore a dress we both agree on."

Both mother and daughter slowly allowed matching smiles to fill their face as the comment hung in the air.

"Astoria!" Daphne called once again, having finally found her other half. "You must meet my darling Greg."

The slow smile on her face immediately fell asunder as her eyes lay on her future brother-in-law. She did not know what she expected. In their correspondence all she had ever heard was how good Greg was to her sister, and how deeply in love they were. Never once had her sister offered a description, or the notion that Astoria already had an acquaintance with him.

Or his last name.

"Goyle?" she sputtered in shock.

"Erm, hullo," he replied, casting his gaze to the ground.

Daphne seemed not to notice either's discomfort, and began to quickly announce how happy she was that everyone was there, how grand it was that her sister had returned, and how handsome her darling Greg looked in his new dress robes.

Astoria had come to England with the reasoning that sisterly duty bested her desire of never wanting to return. How could she deny her sister's request for such an important occasion? Surely enough time had passed that she could spend a few days at her childhood home solely in the company of her family without feeling an insurmountable amount of pain.

But had she known exactly who her sister had decided to tie her life to she felt certain she would not have come. Or, that she would have announced her presence and her concerns first in order to side step her fears. She definitely would not have waited till a last minute pep talk roused her into coming unannounced.

For surely if it was thought to the world that she would not come to the party celebrating a future union between Daphne Greengrass and Gregory Goyle, the soon-to-be-groom's best friend would have little reason not to show.

Immediately all of her senses were dedicated to searching through the crowd. Her heart jolted at the sight of any light shade of hair and her stomach turned with each passing second. She was so focused that she stepped out of the circle of conversation as soon as she could to get a closer look. She failed to notice the look of dawning on her sister's face, or the reserved reaction of her mother.

"He's over there," her mother said softly, lightly grabbing her daughter's bare shoulder with one hand as the other pointed to a far corner.

Astoria hesitated to follow her mother's direction, but eventually she found it within her to look.

And there he was.

Even from across the room she could pick out the subtle differences in the face she had once spent so much time staring at. It was stronger, darker, and stripped of any boyish look. His hair was a bit longer, and though he wore long-sleeved robes she could tell his arms had more build on them. But despite these differences he was unmistakable. He still maintained his casually graceful stance, and though she saw it only in profile, he still wore his decades perfected, Malfoy inherent smirk.

She barely had the time to take in this quasi-new version of Draco when she was met with the biggest of changes. An addition to his person that had never once entered her mind quite literally waltzed into view. An insanely gorgeous blonde haired woman with curves that flirted upon disproportion compared to her small waist regally draped her arm upon his. Her heart shaped face stared up at him in admirable possession as she delicately whispered in his ear.

"Her name is Mikaela Edelberg," her mother stated, answering her daughter's unspoken inquiry. "Pureblood heiress to the vast Edelberg fortune. _Swedish_."

Her mother stated her ethnicity in the same tone she used when cursing.

"How…how long have they been…," Astoria began to ask, though she could hardly choke out the words.

"I have only just learned about their pairing," her mother admitted. "However as I have spent the last seventeen months publicly cursing his name and affronting anyone who even thinks about him in my presence, I cannot be the most reliable source when it comes to duration."

Astoria was startled enough by this statement to temporarily distract her of her shock.

"Mother…" Astoria said breathlessly, unable to find more words.

"It does not matter who holds the greater blame for the end of your relationship," her mother stated firmly, "I will never forgive him for causing you the pain he has. Were he not Goyle's oldest friend I would have never allowed him to come, and had I known you we're coming…"

"It's fine," Astoria said quickly, casting her head to the side. "It doesn't matter. I'm over it."

Though her words were sharp and clear her mother stared at her dubiously. She knew perhaps better than anyone how her daughter could get when placed in such a state, and offered no more words of encouragement due to futility.

Phoebe left her daughter to her own devises, despondent over the fact that her hard-headed daughter had a heart that was so tortured.

Astoria remained transfixed, focusing all her energies in suppressing any emotion. Mikaela walked around gracefully, a beautiful and malicious smile lighting her face as she scanned the room. Just what the meatball was looking for Astoria hadn't the foggiest. Her eyes and thoughts remained on Draco, but in the shock of seeing him so suddenly and after so much time she had yet to register that he had not noticed her.

That is, until, he did.

Out of nowhere Draco's head swiftly turned to exactly where she was standing. There had been no one around him to point her out. He turned as though having known of her location the entire time. Nothing in his face displayed any particular emotion, but his stare pierced the distance like a lightning bolt.

Astoria could feel the intensity of his steel grey eyes from across the room. They were the same eyes that had plagued her mind for months. She had no inclination to think about how despite the lapse in time and the maturation of both of their bodies she still remembered the exact shade and power his eyes held. Comparisons and quandaries fled her brain the moment she fell under his seething gaze.

Only one constant thought came to her and she acted upon it immediately. She ran.

* * *

The bathtub and bathroom on the fourth floor of the Manor was much smaller than she remembered. Having spent a large part of her youth occupying the room in sanctuary, it was an oddity that its scale did not reflect her memory. She also could not believe that after striking off on her own, facing the perils of the Amazon and the even greater dangers of the business world, that a single look could send her rushing off to her childhood refuge.

Her relapse, however, was the last thing on her mind.

She curled herself over her knees as she sobbed inconsolably in the dry marble tub. She had never cried this hard. She had never allowed it. But now all she could do was wipe her face on her silk emerald dress as she lost every control on her emotions.

Time, it appeared, had healed nothing. Distance had only acted as a blindfold. In New York she didn't have to worry about every street bringing forth memories. The sighting of a tall, blonde haired man never brought about a second thought in America. With each passing day she collected more events to occupy her mind at night rather than wasting her time pining.

But the moment she had laid eyes on him she had felt her emotions stir. And as soon as he looked at her, staring at her in a powerful, unreadable intensity, she all but lost it. Every ounce of fear, hurt, shame, and sadness struck her as hard as it had seventeen months ago. All that had changed was the hardly fathomable notion that another woman held his arm.

Astoria finally raised her head from off her knees and ordered herself to breathe. Nearly a year and a half of rejecting access to her feelings had caused her entire body to shake. Her stomach contorted every time she dared to move, and her lungs all but collapsed for want of oxygen. A distant part of her knew that now was not the time for this. She could not succumb to total despair in the middle of her sister's party, with the cause so close she felt as though she could sense him.

She chastised herself for such reactions. She had trained herself to think nothing more of Draco than a mistake and a reminder of what would happen if she got too close to someone. She had been foolish then for letting some romantic notion take hold of her, and it was downright irrational of her to abandon all reserve and sense and fall apart with a mere gaze.

Draco Malfoy was not worth her tears, and he certainly was not worth the time spent away from her family. This was her house and she would not flee from such an inconsequential ferret.

Rising from the tub, she felt a self-important strength consume her. She would remain cold, indifferent, and not let another moment be wasted on such a matter. She was Astoria Greengrass. No one was worth robbing her of her desires.

Such an indestructible mindset lasted the whole five seconds it took her to climb out of the tub and face the mirror. It was then that she was confronted with the true toll the night had taken on her. Her face was shaded a hot red, her eyes so shot there ceased to be any white about her pupils, and her long hair that had lain elegantly straight past her shoulder blades now curled in wretched tangles.

Astoria let out another sob, but from then on her cries were silent. She could only bring about a numbness of pain by planning out what she, human Astoria, would do to get through the night. She would put on a brave face, allow her family to protect her, and would return home to cry her heart out. That act was long overdue.

She washed her face methodically and willed her color to subside. She felt confident that with the makeup she had downstairs in her pocket book she would be able to walk about normally. She took another deep breath, gave her reflection a little half smile, accepted the thumbs up it gave in return, and started to prepare her composure for the long trek back to the hall.

She should have started sooner.

Not a moment after she opened the door and took a decisive step out into the corridor did she find herself face to with the last and only person she wanted to see.

Her confident reserve abandoned by way of surprise, she gasped. Draco relayed no such sentiment, as he had been waiting for her to appear from the far corner of the tiny bathroom almost as soon as he had watched her flee. Only once had she made the offhanded statement of the location of her hiding place in her parents' house, but he knew without question that it was there that she had ran for comfort.

Despite claims to the contrary, there were some things about Astoria that were completely predictable.

Neither said a word as they stared at each other. The state of her face and the likelihood that he had heard her violent sobs were discarded from her mind as she stood in front of him in unflinching contempt. For his part he gave no sign of sorrow upon espying her upset, nor remorse in believing himself to be the cause.

After a formidable standstill Draco looked to the side in an exasperated and disgusted sigh. He curtly nodded his head to the small and unused office to the left of him. Astoria continued her silent stare for a moment before walking into the room.

It was not until he had shut the door firmly behind him that either of them spoke.

"Had I known that you would be here I wouldn't have come," he said steadfastly.

Astoria scoffed absurdly.

"I have absolutely no trouble believing that," she replied flippantly.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" he demanded roughly.

"Unless you have suffered some sort of debilitating stroke recently, you should know exactly what I mean," she snapped bitterly. Draco's eyes widened at the added insult to his intelligence.

"I'm sorry, have you forgotten that YOU were the one who left ME?" he yelled, breaking the distance between them to shove his face intimidatingly close to hers. No fear struck her from this move, but despite the utter hate she harbored him her body could not help but be stimulated by his closeness.

"I'm surprised you even noticed. How long did it take? A few days? A week? Or until you woke up with a hard on and realized there was nothing around to fuck?" she demanded, glaring at him intensely.

A look of pure fury crossed his face at her comment. In an instant she found herself being pushed back against the wall, Draco's arms on either side of her pinning her in. His fists and jaw were clinched, and a murderous darkness consumed his eyes. Astoria did not alter her gaze.

A loud thump and a slew of vibrations nearly caused her to jump. In anger Draco had pounded his fists against the wall, causing two identical holes to form. He soon after retracted his hands and walked off dejectedly to the side, freeing her of her imprisonment. Though his back remained nobly straight his head hung to the floor.

"Let's not do this," she suggested quietly, her tone switching from haughty indignation to a near plea. "Let's just move past this night and move on with our lives the same way we had, worrying only to ourselves what happened between us."

"I know what happened between us," he stated gruffly. Astoria's eyes widened in surprise at the firmness of which he spoke.

"Do you now?" she asked in quiet disbelief.

"You were afraid," he stated simply. Another round of anger engulfed.

"Afraid! Why you pedantic son of a bitch, how dare you…"

"You were afraid of where you thought our future was going, or what you thought I wanted from you. But instead of talking to me like an adult you decided to skive off like you always do," he continued firmly.

Astoria took a step back, fighting the angry tears that threatened to fall.

"So that's what you think?" she demanded, her voice wavering only once. "Well, it's lovely to know you felt strong enough to try and find me and make sure…"

"It's not like you ran off to your mother's house!" he yelled, his jaw clenching once more. "You moved to another fucking hemisphere! What was I supposed to do, beg you to come back? You made yourself pretty clear that you "can't do this"."

Astoria staggered back, her heart breaking at his accusations. Silence, however, ruled her mind, and she had no strength or inclination to contradict him.

"You're right," she shrugged stoically. "I am a cowardly, manipulative, cold-hearted bitch. I wasn't getting what I wanted so I left you in my wake. There. We're done."

She took her leave to vacate, when once again Draco shot out his arm against the wall and blocked her way. She rounded on him furiously, but he had already pushed himself against her again.

"Then what happened?" he demanded fiercely.

"I already told you! Let me go!"

"Cut the shite, Astoria. I've been waiting months to hear this," he pushed, ignoring her violent shoves and hits.

"Let me go this instant or I swear I am going to kill you!" she screamed in all-consuming ire, panic from entrapment and the question manifesting itself into blind rage.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"Let it go!" she half yelled, half sobbed, twisting about in agony. Draco was unmoved.

"What the fuck could have possibly happened that made you leave after ALL we had been though?" he continued. "I can't think of one fucking reason…"

"How about a miscarriage?" she hissed, the words slipping from her mouth before she had the time to stop them.

"A mis…?"

Draco had begun to respond in mocking contempt, when the words finally hit him. And hit them they did, for his face dropped and he staggered backwards as if she had slapped him.

"A mis-…you were…? You _were_…you were "sick" for weeks…"

Draco continued to amble back until his foot hit a chair. He all but collapsed into it, his lips shaking as he muttered half formed thoughts. Astoria remained frozen in terror for what had come to pass. She had long ago decided that she alone would be privy to what had occurred on that fateful day at Spinner's End. Her lapse in realizing her fruitless pregnancy and her fault for pushing her body through more stress than it could handle was to be her burden alone, only to ever be contemplated when she wandered to the darkest recesses of her mind. Since she had left England she never resigned herself to tell Draco. She certainly would never have planned to reveal such a dark happening by throwing it in his face like she had. Horror and shame filled her, and it took every ounce of strength she had to push past it.

"When?" he inquired, finally able to produce a coherent thought.

"When do you think?" she answered harshly.

Draco closed his eyes, the memory of their last fight haunting him as he replayed it with the understanding she had just lost their child.

"It was for the best, anyways," she stated firmly and without emotion. Draco's head snapped up with a new and angry look of shock on his face.

"How can you say that?" he demanded furiously.

"Draco, we were falling apart. I was miserable those last few weeks and I hardly seemed to register a second thought to you. The fact that I left and you never came…" her words started to stumble as finally a pair of tears pushed past her barrier.

"Look, I know I shouldn't have left, but I was so…I can't even describe what I was. I wanted to come back to you so badly. I _needed_ you," she explained, her voice cracking upon emphasis. "But when I finally came to my senses, I realized that I had left and you hadn't bothered to follow. And all the fears I had about our relationship seemed violently true. You didn't want me."

Draco's head shook at her statement, followed by the unthinkable. He began to laugh.

"You're a monster," she whispered, turning swiftly to leave this horrid nightmare.

"I thought you had found the ring," he called out to her, standing to his feet. Astoria stopped dead in her tracks, his words resounding in her ears.

"In the drawer were you kept your recipe book and your spare parchment I had hid the engagement ring I bought you with the first round of money I received," he explained ardently, and though her back remained turned she knew he slowly came closer.

"I thought you had found it and… well, you left. That gave me a pretty strong hint of your answer."

Astoria finally turned around. The hurt in his face was unprotected by any mask. Had he the ability to focus on anything but the matter at hand he doubted he could control his emotions if he had tried. It was all he could do to try and stop his arms from shaking as the magnitude of what had happened all those months ago was finally revealed.

"Azzy, if I had known…" he began, his voice quivering as he pleaded.

"Well you didn't bother to find out, did you?" she demanded frankly.

"Azzy…" he called out, reaching his hand to touch her softly.

"Don't you fucking dare!" she exploded, slapping his touch away as she descended into hysterics.

"I don't care what you thought may have happened, or what you say now, all that matters is what you _did_!" she yelled. "You left me alone for weeks, and then when I needed you the most you weren't there. You _never came_!"

"That's not fair!" he shouted back, panicked anger shading his cheeks. "I had no…"

"That's not fair? Fair! Fuck you!" she spat. "You have no right to talk about what's fair. You knew who I was! I spent two weeks shaking, in a daze, bedridden in some gnat infested inn as my body had to repair itself after…after…and you couldn't be bothered to secure a reason why I had gone?"

Draco had spent countless nights imagining what he would say to Astoria if he ever saw her again. He had created a laundry list of transgressions she had made against him, and had always felt ready to enact his revenge. Except for, of course, the nights where he would have given anything for her to be beside him again.

But now? Now Draco had no words. Any argument he had ever prepared defending his side of the story seemed weak and childish. Yes, she had up and left him, but no longer for some small reason. When he was ten his mother had suffered through a traumatic miscarriage, and even at so young an age he knew that such a painful event continued long after the bleeding stopped. And that had been a sister he selfishly hadn't wanted in the first place, and his mother had been comforted by a husband who had stayed by her side.

Now the child had been his, and the woman he loved more than anything had suffered through it alone because he had been too busy setting up his dreams to notice she was sick, and too prideful to chase after her when she had rightfully had enough.

"I know we were going through a rough patch when this all happened," she conceded with a sniff and a severe reduction in dynamic. "And perhaps things could have gone different…"

"Azzy," he whispered, begging her not to continue as he fought tears.

"Your distraction for your new business was understandable. The miscarriage…I've dealt with. What I cannot handle is how we both acted when the shit really hit the fan. I had gone against my better nature and grew to depend on you. I never wanted to need you but I did, and then when I didn't have you…I cannot bear the thought of ever going through that again," she shuddered at her words, sadness overtaking her as she could not look at the man in front of her.

"I love you, Draco. And I'll never forgive you for that."

Such a strange mixture of admission, coupled with the shock and overload he had received, blindsided him intensely. It was almost if his mind had collapsed and had to be rebuilt piece by piece to process all the information. When he was finally able to shake himself out of it he realized he was quiet alone.

**(A/N: I am almost done with the next chapter and it will be posted very very soon! I have about 5 more chapters planned and it's my goal to have this story finished by the end of the summer. I'll have a lot more free time now. I just graduated college! Cum Lade baby!)**


	28. I Go Around A Time Or Two

_I Go Around A Time Or Two, Just To Waste My Time With You _

The elegant dress her mother had so admired now lay in a hapless puddle on her bedroom floor. Astoria had opted for a pair of cotton shorts, a white t-shirt, and her flowing hair tied back in a ponytail. Because of her strong jaw and choice of clothes she had always been able to pass herself off as older than she was. Dressed as she was now it was easy to tell she had just barely escaped her teen years.

She walked around her lonely uptown apartment, pacing the length with a glass of wine in her hand. Little Bugger watched his human wander back and forth, sitting primly in muted curiosity. He often congratulated himself on choosing such a well-trained human to share a life with. She was gone enough that he was assured his privacy and complete run of the house, but always came home to ensure his bowls were full, litter box empty, and his back scratched upon his desire. The fact that she left him to his own devises until _he_ wanted attention was her best attribute, one which he felt certain should be bred into all humans.

He was therefore taken in complete unawares when she unceremoniously scooped him off his perch, dumped him in her lap, and took her own liberties in stroking him absentmindedly.

"I can't stop thinking about him, Bug," she whispered sadly, burying her face into his thick fur. The cat blinked in annoyance, and was at first determined to jump away least she decide to make a habit of cathandling him so abruptly in the future. But he stifled such desire, sensing as many of his breed tended to do the illness in his human. Relenting, he settled in her lap and let out a half-hearted purr, though he struggled against the pleasure of her caresses in principle.

Astoria did not think she had anymore tears left to cry, having lost so many that evening at her parents' place. She had rushed home the moment she had made her horrifically true admittance to Draco without saying good-bye to anyone. She knew Daphne would understand, and she forced herself to make haste in case she lost the ability to move.

The last she had seen him was the beginning of June, right before his twenty-first birthday and almost two months shy of her ninetieth. Merlin, had she really been that young? It took her another moment to remind herself she was only a few months passed twenty now.

So much had happened to her in the near year and a half they had been apart. Both had managed to begin to amass their own fortune, their own power. Draco had his investment business, and she a whole slew of products she had begun to develop. For though her first breakthrough came through the medical field, she had found a rather lucrative niche in aesthetics. Her potion, it was found, could remove acne, sunspots and wrinkles as cleanly as it did Dark Marks and cursed scars.

A broad market was everything these days.

Despite such acclaim and a passage of time, her meeting with Draco had freshened an apparently never healed wound.

She had never thought she'd see him again. Her exile from England had been to ensure that. Had she known that a chance meeting would provoke so much misery and pain she would have exercised better caution when it came to returning.

After taking a sip of wine she finally relinquished her grip on her begrudging cat and once again began to pace. She hated to admit it, but she could not stop thinking about how strong her feelings towards him still were. She had thought she had done an efficient job of wiping him from her memory, but his presence had caused old sentiment to pour forth.

Despite every word they exchanged being unhappy, and every touch they shared being violent, she had only barely been able to contain herself from kissing him.

"I fucking hate that man!" she yelled to no one, stomping her foot to Bug's annoyance. Trying to pacify her rage, she opened up one of her many windows facing the sweeping view of the giant city hoping some fresh air would soothe her.

It did not.

Instead she leaned her head against the cool brick wall of her edifice and relinquished herself to another round of silent tears.

He had seemed so genuinely upset…so dismayed by the entire ordeal…so sorry. Perhaps they could talk…

No. No she would not talk to him. He had had nearly a year and a half to make amends before this, and had sullied an opportunity to do so tonight. She would not go to him, neither for reconciliation, closure, or a much deserved kick in the bollocks. She must instead focus her attentions on _actually_ getting over him and carry on with her life. Perhaps she could contact Cheri and see if she knew any good psychologists out in New York. Maybe it was worth a try, even if she believed the whole "science" of therapy to be a crock and doubted she would ever tell anything to a paid stranger.

What she did know for sure was that she had meant what she said about not being able to go through with the pains of love again. She had reverted back to her original mindset about the waste of time and health such a trivial and fleeting thing was, and she needed to safe guard her heart from ever being bewitched by its allurement again.

New love she did not consider a problem. Never would she let a man near again. Old desire…well, she simply just had to work harder than she had.

She was startled out of her deep mindset by a loud "thud" coming from the closed window on her left. She very nearly screamed after being taken by surprise. Taking a deep breath and convincing herself it must have been a bird, she opened the window to see if she could find a body on the ledge.

There was no pigeon to be found. Instead she found herself picking up a rather crumpled and old looking pack of menthol cigarettes.

"What the devil?" she demanded, looking about. Her window ledge stood thirty stories off the ground. "How the hell did these get here?"

"You left them," a rather self-important voice explained from beside her. This time Astoria did let out a scream, and quickly reached to grab her wand out of her non-existent pocket.

Having noted her disarmament, Draco grinned as he finished climbing into her flat from her other open window.

Astoria was in a complete state of angry shock, but stared at him as though not taken by surprise.

"I don't smoke menthols," she sneered, finding this statement to be the only thought she could firmly grasp as her head whirled.

"You're not supposed to smoke at all," he scolded with shameless license. "However you _did_ smoke menthols at least once. You left these behind in the family crest at my manor over two years ago."

Astoria blinked, vaguely recalling her old habit of hiding cigs in houses when her mother would search her person for such artifacts.

"I don't have time for this!" Astoria spat, throwing up her hands and spinning away from him. She could still not fathom his brazen entrance to her home, nor would her heart beat softly enough for her to sort through any thought of why he had traveled across the ocean just to lecture her on a nasty habit.

She had not taken two steps away from him when she felt his hand tightly grasp her arm. His grip was firm, and when she turned to demand her release she was met with the darkest of glowers.

"This whole "you running away" bit is getting really old," he stated forebodingly.

"Let go of me!" she demanded, anger flowing from every vein in her body.

"I can't."

As this admittance was punctuated with him drawing back his hand, Astoria was forced to consider a second meaning behind his statement. Immediately the first wave of intense hatred subsided, giving way to curiosity and a burning desire to know just why he looked at her the way he did.

"I can't let you go. I've tried," he admitted, looking down. "I've tried for almost a year and a half to forget you and move on. I was certain you had so there was no point for me…"

Draco quickly flicked up his head, apparently traveling down a vulnerable path he had promised himself he'd stay away from.

"Draco, we've already gone through this…" Astoria began.

"Did you ever wonder how I knew where to find you on New Year's?" he asked quickly, cutting off her attempt at ending their conversation. "That night we officially got together after you were on that date with that tosser from your work?"

Astoria blinked again, having not expected this question nor having ever contemplated it. When they had been together she had only ever thought of his intervention as fortuitous and magical. When apart she had tried not to think about that time being one of the happiest moments in her life.

She shook her head.

"How did you know?" she inquired as flatly as she could.

"I didn't," he stated simply.

Astoria knitted her eyebrows together in confusion.

"I did not know you would be there," he repeated. "I had been invited and figured it was a sight better than sitting at home miserable. After you had run off I had had absolutely no intention of coming after you or seeing you again."

"Well that is just brilliant!" Astoria cried hysterically, crossing her arms dramatically. "Great to know you've never given a shit about…"

"But when I saw you, dancing with that man, _kissing_ him…I fucking lost it," he continued quietly. "I knew at that very moment that I had to have you. And I know that sounds like a spoiled only-child thing to say, only wanting something when someone else has it, but it was so much more than that. The second I saw you I knew I had made a mistake in letting you go. I felt intense remorse, which is something I _never _feel. There was literally nothing else I could do but yank him off of you and try and win you back."

Draco paused for a moment, waiting to see if she would respond. He continued when she didn't.

"When you left me I had felt certain that it was because you didn't want to be with me. I don't…I didn't take that rejection well. I have spent all this time fighting with myself over you, always letting my pride win. Once I even made it so far as coming here to your very street. But I could never bring myself to face you, and I just let myself stay hurt. Until I saw you again…"

"Just stop," she demanded, stomping her foot. "There is nothing to be said."

"There are volumes of things to be said," he retorted, raising his eyebrows. "I just need you to stand still long enough for us to say them."

"Don't even act like…"

Astoria was stunned out of her haughty statement by Draco putting his finger to her mouth.

"You kind of took me by surprise with a lot of things tonight," he insisted lightly. "And it took me the whole hour and a half since you've run away to sort it all out."

"There's nothing to sort!" she exclaimed. A corner of Draco's mouth flipped upwards in amusement over her tantrum.

"You hit it dead on when you said our downfall was how we reacted when things went south. You're an insane bitch that does fight and flight at the same time. I'm a stubborn bastard who refuses to chase after anyone. And we're both too prideful to apologize," he enumerated.

"You forgot to mention that you are just an all-round self-conceited jackass!" she spat, crossing her arms.

"Granted," he shrugged with a grin. "But after I picked my brain up off the floor tonight I suddenly realized what needed to happen."

"You're going to jump off my ledge and let me watch?" she suggested.

"As much as I have always enjoyed the voyeur in you, that is not the case," he replied quickly. "You said that you love me."

"I said no such thing!" she defended, her face getting hot. She realized the second he had come that such a statement would be brought up. She was beginning to panic, and the only reaction she had left was to deny and to deflect whatever he had to say. The worst thing she could do was breakdown in front of him and let him know how much he had affected her. She needed him gone and out of her life again as quickly as she could manage.

Draco simply rolled his eyes at her terrible defense mechanism.

"You said love. _Love._ No past tense, no "d"," he insisted. "From then on it was pretty clear what I needed to do. I went downstairs and broke up with Mikaela."

"You did what?" she demanded, taking a step back in shock. "Why?"

"So I could give you this."

He dipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. Astoria felt as though she had been punched in the stomach when she realized what it contained. He opened the clasp and took out a small silver ring. There were two bands that wound around each other elegantly like serpents, accentuated with small emeralds. In the middle sat a fierce and elegant looking diamond that glinted in the light. She gasped for breath but failed to collect any. Her hands, however, felt free to tremble.

"I told you I had bought you a ring," he said simply, holding it out so she could see it more clearly.

"Draco…" she whispered breathlessly, unable to form a coherent thought.

"I'm tired of all the bullshit, and I'm tired of not having you," he stated. "If pride is our downfall, well, I guess since I'm two years older I'll be the mature one and concede. I should have come after you, whether or not I believed I was right I should have still come. I love you, Astoria. I am so sorry about all that has happened. I can't imagine going through all that you have alone, and I know why you chose to never come back."

"But I also believe that throughout all this you still love me. I know that even back when I thought you had deserted me I could never honestly say my feelings for you had waned. I know we have lost faith in one another, but I promise from this point forward you can always depend on me to be there. I'm ready to spend the rest of my life proving that to you. Marry me."

Though this day had been completely filled with surprises, Astoria didn't have to bother thinking about her answer.

"No!" she exclaimed with distaste. "Hell no! A thousand times no! Are you mental?"

Despite being so quickly and crudely rejected, Draco kept the calm look on his face.

"I figured as much," he sighed in good nature, shrugging it off lightly.

"You figured as much?" she repeated angrily. "Then why the hell did you bother asking?"

Astoria was at a loss, drowning in confusion. She wanted him to leave so badly, but for some reason she had yet to even tell him to go. She could not believe had had the brass to break into her apartment and propose to her so blatantly, yet she could not say that the tremble in her hand was from rage alone. There was, she admitted, a hint of desire.

"To let you know what my intentions are," he answered simply. "I love you, I want to marry you, and I'm going to get you back."

"You don't love me!" she urged desperately. "It's been a year and a half. We've changed!"

"You grew your hair out and I started listening to jazz music. I hardly find that consequential to our relationship," he replied smugly.

"Fuck you! You have no idea who you're dealing with!" she spat in ire.

"Astoria, I know you better than anyone else. I know that pisses you off, but just get over it," he stated simply. "I'm not going to argue with you about that since we both know I'm right."

"This is the worst proposal I have ever heard of!" she responded shaking her head. "Get out and leave me alone!"

"I'll go," he replied, nodding his head, "but I will never leave you. Not again. Not ever."

Astoria felt her heart tense up and once again she found it difficult to breathe. Tears welled up in her eyes and she immediately turned away from him. She felt pulled in so many directions she didn't know what to do. All of his pretty words should have been discarded as meaningless, but some part of her held on to what he was saying. She hated him more than she loved him, but the size of the margin was no longer clear. Perhaps it was too close to even say. All she knew was that she had to get him to leave before she acted out in weakness.

"Why are you even trying for all this?" she whispered. She immediately kicked herself for such a pathetic inquiry and hoped that he had not heard.

Draco's heavy footsteps filled her ears as he walked around her, right in front of her so she had to look at him. His face was set, serious, and his eyes stared at her intently.

"Because two years ago to the day you climbed out of a window and into my life. You made things worthwhile, made me want to be the kind of man who you would be proud to call yours. And somehow during that transition I lost sight of what it was I was really after, and then when I lost sight of you completely I buried all my feelings. But I can't do that again, not after seeing you and knowing what happened. So I'll wait and take the time it takes to prove to you how serious I am about this. And if you still say no after all that…well at least I can walk away knowing I tried, and I was just too late."

"You are too late! I'll never marry you! I would have never married you! Your stupid and I despise you!" she exclaimed, hating her tantrum response and the tears that fell down her cheeks. Draco reached out and brushed her face quickly before she could react, wiping the steady stream away as he stole a caress.

"I don't believe you," he whispered simply, smiling as he headed back to the window.

"That's crap!" she yelled, chasing after him. "How else can I tell you no?"

"Azzy, if you really wanted nothing to do with me you would have blasted me with curses before I could even get a word in," he explained in a patronizing tone. "But I like it this way. It's going to be fun."

"You're a piece of shit, Malfoy!" she screamed, folding her arms as he began to climb out the window. She was consumed with anger. How dare he come to her! How dare he propose and grin idiotically about his little game! But most of all she was angry with how she had no other response to his accusation.

"This, my love, is yours," he stated, holding out the silver ring once more. When she made no move to take it he simply smirked and placed it on an end table.

"I'm just going to chuck it in the fireplace!" she warned, eyes narrowing at the piece of jewelry.

"It's yours to do with as you wish. As is my love," he replied, grinning at his own response.

"Oh, fuck off!" she demanded, tired of seeing his stupid smirk on his stupid face. She shot out her arms and pushed him out her window. Instantly she felt a twinge of regret and watched in muted horror as he began to fall the 30 stories to the ground. That was until he twisted in mid-air, smirked, shouted "I'll see you tomorrow!", before disappearing in a cloud of smoke the moment before he would have hit the ground.

She clutched her heart in relief as she slid to the floor, praising his quick reflexes as he escaped her exasperated attempt of murder.

She didn't even know how to begin to sort out all that had happened, let alone how she could breathe. Everything and nothing flooded through her mind as she curled into a ball and began to rock.

Marry him?

Marry _him?_

Marry him.

Marry…

With a jolt Astoria leapt to her feet, fueled by a passionate hatred. In an instant a roaring white flame ignited in her fire place. Even from across the great room she began to sweat from the intense heat. Without another thought she grabbed the ring off the table and flung it into the scorching fire. It wouldn't take long for metal to melt in such a heat. In a few minutes there would be no physical evidence left that this atrocious night had ever happened, and she could finally go about forgetting.

Satisfied, she walked away from the living room, shutting her bedroom door behind her.

Little Bugger sat on top of the sofa, indignant over his option of sleeping on the king sized bed being denied to him. He also didn't care for the heat or that strange man who had trespassed on his territory. The lynx like cat stared into the flames, willing them to die off. When they continued to crackle and burn fiercely he decided to invest his energy in cleaning himself, sulking over how nothing seemed to be listening to him tonight.

He was startled after his third lick when the door to the bedroom flung open and his human dashed across the floor. She reached for her wand and instantly extinguished the flames. Bug flicked up his ears as he watched her crawl on her knees, cursing as she shifted through the ash. He blinked as she held up a small silver object that glinted in the light, even before she thoroughly and desperately cleaned it on her t-shirt.

Bug remained on his cushion for a good half hour, watching his human clutch her face and mutter incoherently. She continually casted the ring to the side and picked it up again, muttering, crying and laughing to it as she rambled on incessantly. Finally having enough of such nonsense, he quitted the room and swaggered to the bedroom. He jumped up on the bed and curled up on her favorite pillow, making sure he rolled on it a bit to get his fur stuck. She hated when he slept on her pillow. He smirked to himself as he drifted off to sleep, prematurely pleased with the irritation his human would have upon finding him in her spot when she finally decided to quit her insanity and sleep.

His pleasure, however, was rash and short lived. For when he next woke up it was not from his human pushing him off the bed and scolding him, but from a ray of sun that shined on an otherwise empty bed.


	29. Games You Don't Want To Play

_Tell Me All That You've Thrown Away, Find Out Games You Don't Want To Play_

"Well, once we handle all of that it should be no problem getting in," Draco confirmed lazily, picking a blueberry out of his muffin and playing with it aimlessly.

"I still think you might be taking a bit of a risk doing this, son," Rhett replied, taking his white Stetson off his knee and twirling it in his hands. "This is a pretty big transition and your whole operation is pretty young."

"I like risks," Draco retorted with a grin. "It wouldn't be any fun if it were otherwise. But I suppose I am young and not easily scared by a challenge…"

"Hold on a minute, I ain't been scared by a challenge yet," the Texan hollered, biting determinedly into his eggs. He immediately made a face at the taste, spitting the food out into his napkin.

"'Scuse me, little miss," Rhett interjected, waving over the waitress. The teenage girl with orange streaked hair and a nose ring chain that connected to her ear turned around, blowing a vibrant pink bubble as she stared at him angrily.

"Just for future reference, dumpin' salsa on processed scrambled eggs does not huevos rancheros make," he explained, pointing to his plate.

"Then go back to Mexico," she spat, popping her gum as she turned away.

"What service," Rhett muttered, taking another bite in spite of himself. "These Yankees don't know much by way of hospitality."

"I was quite amused to see what you Americans considered an "English muffin"," Draco added, finally popping the blueberry in his mouth.

"What exactly possessed you to arrange our breakfast meeting here?" Rhett asked, looking around the dingy and health-questionable diner curiously. "I was under the impression you could afford much better."

"Yes," Draco replied, smirking in self-satisfaction, "but this place has the best coffee in the neighborhood."

Rhett's bushy eyebrows rose in confusion as he watched his future business partner take a sip of his tea. He was about to interrogate further when a bell chimed, signaling a new customer had arrived. Immediately Draco's eyes were glued to the door, and a knowing smile spread across his face. Rhett turned around to see a pretty raven haired girl walk in quickly, her hand already holding the change it cost for a coffee to-go as though she were a regular.

"Large black, Sam," her voice ordered, laying the money on the counter.

"Coffee's almost done brewing, Ms. Greengrass," Sam replied. Astoria nodded impatiently, obviously in a rush to start her day. She scowled in acceptance and turned mindlessly to face the diner. Her face froze as her eyes landed upon their table. Rhett could feel the intensity in her glare as she stared at them, and he watched her heave in anger as she approached them quickly. He turned to face Draco, who held an easy look about his face as though amused.

"What the hell do you think you're doing here?" she demanded, crossing her arms furiously.

"I'm having a business meeting with my North American Division Planning Manager," he responded coyly.

"You don't have a North American Division!" she accused, eyes burning daggers.

"I do now," he replied coolly. "And once again I have you to thank for the idea. I never realized how much I would enjoy America. But spending nearly every day here for the last three weeks has really opened my eyes to the wondrous opportunity that lies before me."

"You are such a stalker!" she yelled, pounding her fist on the table. Rhett moved quickly to save his coffee from spilling over at her outburst.

"I am simply trying to have breakfast with a colleague as we hammer out semantics over the new branches. This is, as I have heard so frequently, a free country," he answered in a smirk.

"And why the hell are you doing it here?" she demanded so fiercely that Rhett pulled away his plate for fear she may flip the table over.

"Well New York felt like a good meeting place between England and Texas. Not exactly half way, but I don't mind traveling the extra distance so we don't have to meet out on the Atlantic Ocean…"

"I mean in the diner, you arsehole," she spat. "You know I come here for coffee because it's right next to my office."

"I did not know I knew that," he replied simply, taking a victorious sip out of his mug.

"You…urgh!" she exploded, hot frustration stealing any ounce of composer. Whatever she had planned to say next was interrupted as the orange haired waitress plopped down her coffee on the table, either oblivious or unmoved by the quarrel between the two. Astoria quickly snatched up her drink, swallowing hard as she suppressed her anger.

"Fine. Take the bloody diner. Take every damn diner. I don't care. Just leave me alone and stop following me!" she decreed, casting him one more loathing look before spinning out the door.

Rhett raised his eyebrows once again as she stormed out, quite aware that all the other patrons were looking at them, waiting to see Draco's response.

"She's cute when she's murderous," Draco grinned, finally accepting his own processed eggs as his breakfast and digging in happily.

"What the hell did you do to set her off?" Rhett inquired, astounded and bemused at the situation.

"Oh, I've done a few things here and there," Draco answered off handedly. "Recently however her wrath is fueled by the fact that I'm trying to get her to marry me."

"So this explains the sudden desire to expand Caviler Enterprises overseas," Rhett stated simply, staring at Draco in reevaluation. "I thought it was a risky move before, but if you're just doing it as an excuse to get some girl…"

"The girl," Draco interjected, stirring his tea as he spoke. "She's _the_ girl."

"And I'm as romantic as a sunset, but you're placing your whole company in danger going up against the investment firms here. Lincoln & Mackey Investing has been around for centuries…"

"Lincoln & Mackey is run by idiots who spend more time in their mistresses than they do in the boardroom," Draco countered. "They are complacent at the top and are choosing to close their eyes to the change in the economy. This post-war boom is not going to last forever."

"And you feel like you have a better edge?" Rhett inquired, starting to lose some of his unease about the venture as Draco finally started talking like a businessman.

"I am acutely aware of how quickly one can lose everything," Draco stated, a twinge of bitterness garnishing his voice.

"Well, you got me there," Rhett admitted, easing back into his chair. "And you have me in your business. Just try not to let your _other_ business distract you too much from Caviler. It's not just your neck that's on the line."

"I see it more as consolidating my interests than a distraction," Draco replied with a grin. Rhett laughed and bent back over to talk when suddenly the door to the diner crashed into the wall as it was swung open violently. Rhett and Draco only had a moment to espy Astoria marching to their table before she went off on them once again.

"You know what, fuck that! This is my diner, my city! I got here first! I demand that you leave this instant!" she fumed.

"As you wish, my love," Draco grinned, tossing far more money than was required down on the table. "Come on, Rhett. I'll show you the office space I purchased. It's pretty close by."

"No!" Astoria ordered, stomping her black stiletto against the floor. "Get out of my life! You are not buying office space close to mine, you wanker!"

"You look absolutely stunning in that blouse," Draco replied, casting his eyes up and down her before spinning away.

Rhett and Draco closed the door behind them before they could hear Astoria's expression of outrage.

"She doesn't seem to be particularly keen on you," Rhett stated slowly. "You sure she's worth all the risk?"

"Abso-fucking-lutely,"Draco smiled.

* * *

_Someone Old, Something New_

Astoria clutched her second glass of champagne as she rested her head on her free hand. She tried to lodge herself as far back into the corner of the couch as she could manage, desperate to disappear. She still felt uneasy being back home after all the time that had passed. Too much pain and anger was associated with England, and she had spent a year and a half building up a wall of hatred to her homeland. Her sister's impending marriage however had blasted a hole through her defenses, especially after Daphne had asked her to be the Maid of Honor in front of all of her friends. How could she say no?

_Daphne has become much more manipulative,_ Astoria thought, a blend of irritation and affectionate pride filling her at the realization. Suddenly she found almost all of her weekends booked from then to the wedding, forcing her to come back to England to attend fittings, scope out venues, hire photographers, plan scores of showers and bachelorette parties and Merlin knows what else.

At the moment she was crammed onto the Drawing Room couch with her mother, her sister, and a squat and stern looking wedding planner as they combed through swatches of blues and pinks to find Daphne's ultimate wedding colors.

"I just can't choose between the Maya Blue and the Sky Blue," her mother groused, holding up the two swatches. Astoria cocked an eyebrow, not seeing a damn difference between the shades. The wedding planner spouted off on the different meanings and magical properties of each as though the course of Daphne's marriage depended on choosing a color that matched both bride and groom's eyes. Astoria would have scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all if it weren't for Daphne. She seemed so ecstatic. Not, of course, about the colors. Astoria was pretty sure it was her mother who would pick all of that out. But Daphne hardly seemed to care. All she wanted was to marry Greg. As long as she got that she didn't care about the rest.

Astoria smiled over the sentiment and made a promise that she would expedite the process as smoothly and quickly as she could so Daphne could get exactly what she wanted. She would push aside her own feelings so her sister could finally get what she deserved. Shaking her head, she quickly went about listing things about the situation that would place her in a better mood.

_Daphne is happy and getting her own life._

_I look best in Cobalt and should push for that._

_There is more champagne._

_At least being here on the weekends with my family will save me from Draco._

That last "happy thought" left a bitter taste in her mouth. Draco had been relentless in his pursuit and she had seen him almost every day. The most annoying thing about the whole process was that he wasn't even doing anything. He hadn't proposed again, wasn't begging for her forgiveness, wasn't smothering her with trinkets or words of affection. He was just…there. She would "run into him", they would exchange a brief conversation where she demeaned him, and he would give her that infuriating smirk of his and a compliment before leaving her alone for the rest of the day. It was hard to do anything to combat any of this, especially as all their meetings had been in public and she was unable to curse him lest her work visa be redacted.

She shook her head, smiling though she didn't know why. She was infuriated at the whole situation and hated the dark feelings that surfaced when he was around and the memories that were tied to him.

Yet still she smiled.

_Masochist,_ she spat to herself.

She was stolen from her thoughts when the elaborate bell chime resounded through the Drawing Room.

"That'll be the Best Man," Phoebe said frantically, her lap covered in purple swatches after it was pointed out that pink would clash with the bride's hair. "He's bringing in the styles of cummerbunds they decided on. Astoria go answer!"

She gladly left the scene, though a small part of her couldn't help but feel indignant at the order. _Old habits_, she suspected as she opened up the door.

Her indignation spiked as she faced the smirking figure holding three cummerbunds in his hands. Draco's grin expanded upon seeing Astoria, and his eyes shaded darkly. She immediately slammed the door in his face and stormed off in a huff.

"Good to see you too," he called out simply after letting himself in.

"Fuck off!" she spat, just as angry at herself for not seeing this coming.

"I'd love too, but I've been asked to deliver these," he continued in such a signature manner that Astoria could picture the smug look on his face even before she spun around.

"Why are you doing this to me?" she demanded. "Why do you insist on getting in my family's and my business?"

"Goyle asked me to be his best man," he laughed, shrugging innocently. "We've been mates for ages. Besides, I did have a hand or two on helping them get engaged…"

"You are such a conceited ass!" she spat. "Daphne and Goyle love each other. How dare you…Cheri?"

Draco turned quickly to the open door to see the short, blonde haired figure of Cheri Madison-Taylor. Astoria instantly dropped the intensity she felt towards Draco as she saw the mascara black tear marks staining her ex co-workers face.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but when I heard you were in town…" Cheri squeaked, trying her best to hold back a new round of tears.

"What's wrong?" Astoria asked instantly, consumed by a protective anger directed at whatever made her friend so distraught.

"Barry's been…cheating…on me…our whole marriage!" she proclaimed, before running down the steps and straight into Astoria's arms. Astoria stood coldly; face drained of blood as her mind processed that bit of information, and she quickly began calculating the best way to destroy that bugger of a man.

"What is going on here?" Phoebe Greengrass demanded; her and the rest of the Drawing Room party coming out to the Great Hall. The only answer was that of Cheri's wail.

"I think we've had enough wedding planning today!" Daphne said cheerfully, rounding on the squat woman and all but pushing her out the door.

"But my dear, we still haven't decided on…"

"It's obviously "girl time" right now, so off you go. Mother, will you see her out?" Daphne asked kindly yet so surely Phoebe had no choice but to obey.

Noting once again how much her sister had matured, Astoria re-wrapped her arms around Cheri's waist. She looked up angrily at Draco, prepared to chew him out to leave too, when she was silenced by his expression. His own face was one of cold anger as though he himself had been betrayed. His eyes clouded darkly and Astoria could tell he was scheming.

Upon Mrs. Greengrass' return Draco dropped the belts in her hand.

"I'm sorry, Cheri," he said curtly, looking at the two women in front of him. "Astoria…"

He seemed unable to finish his sentence before he left, nodding in exit. Astoria paused momentarily to contemplate his discomposure before shaking the matter off to deal with the problem at hand.

The Greengrass sisters lead Cheri to Daphne's room where she was free to breakdown. Through gasping sobs she told how she had found Barry in bed with one of the women from his firm. He had apparently been sleeping with her for over a year, a week before he and Cheri got married.

"He said the idea of marriage just freaked him out, but he felt like he was too invested to stop," she moaned, burying her face in Astoria's lap. Astoria could only watch her friend fall apart silently, her heart hardening.

"I can't believe all of this!" Cheri cried. "How could I not have known? How did I miss the signs? I'm a Psychological Healer for Merlin's sake…"

"This is not your fault," Astoria said firmly, her voice almost shaking in anger. "He's a rat. All men are rats."

"No they aren't," Cheri replied, sitting up. She looked at Daphne for a moment who smiled at her warmly before wiping her face of tears.

"I'm sorry about barging in like this," Cheri continued. "I just needed someone. But I shouldn't have just exploded like that in front of Draco. No telling what he'll do…"

"What the hell does he have to do with any of this?" Astoria demanded, temper flaring at the mention of his name. Cheri and Daphne looked at each other oddly, causing Astoria to struggle.

"Barry works at Caviler Enterprises," Cheri explained solemnly. "Draco hired him personally and even made him a manager after we got engaged."

"Wh-what?" Astoria asked, dumbfounded. Draco had always thought Barry an idiot.

"I mean it wasn't a super high up job, but he made good money and did it well," Cheri continued. "It's also how he met Laura…"

"But that's not Draco's fault," Daphne cut in quickly, as though trying to salvage something. "Draco's just been looking after certain people when he can. He gave Goyle a position also."

"Well that's hardly surprising," Astoria muttered, remembering his affinity for cronyism.

"And not just that. He made it so we could be engaged," Daphne stated.

"What do you mean?" Astoria demanded, unable to picture Draco doing anything of the sort.

"Greg and I fell in love, but us getting married is obviously extremely beneficial for him, seeing as he has no money," Daphne explained severely, as though the thought was hard to spit out. "So Draco backed him and helped him get a career so Father…well, _Mother_ really, would allow the match."

Astoria sat silently, stewing in that information. She stroked Cheri's hair absentmindedly as the girl continued to cry. A seed of guilt slowly sprouted in her stomach. She had been away for so long. She had been so consumed with her own life and needs she was blinded to the happenings of those closest to her. Astoria could spot a cheater from a mile away, and perhaps could have helped Cheri out sooner. And Daphne? Astoria had always been the one to help her sister when it came to their parents understanding her. It was supposed to be her job to protect and help her.

Only she had left, and Draco had picked up her slack.

She continued to stroke Cheri's hair, feeling miserable. Only when she remembered her plan to set Barry's prized broomstick on fire did she perk up in the slightest.

* * *

_A Transfer Best Served Cold_

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Malfoy?" Barry Taylor asked nervously, stepping in to his boss' large dark office.

"Yes, Mr. Taylor, come in," Draco said firmly. The moment Barry stepped into the office the doors slammed behind him. "I've asked you here to discuss your future."

"My future?" Barry repeated, his nerves shaking with every passing second.

"Yes. After much deliberation and evaluation of your recent…work, I have found a new position for you," Draco continued.

"A promotion, sir?" Barry asked hopefully, his stomach finally settling and allowing him to breathe.

"You could call it that," Draco replied with a grin. "I know you've been just itching to join the Research and Development team, and it just so happens we have an opening in our Yakutsk facility."

The smile that had begun to grow on Barry's face stumbled.

"Yakutsk?" he asked in trepidation. "In Siberia? The coldest city on Earth?"

"You know your Geography, Mr. Taylor," Draco complimented drolly.

"If you don't mind me saying, sir, that sounds more like a punishment," Barry stated.

"You could call it that," Draco repeated snidely.

"What have I done?" Barry demanded fitfully, panic piercing his face. Draco leaned across the desk, getting startlingly close to the shaking man.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out about you fucking the secretary?" Draco hissed, his face turning sinister. "Or do you just not think at all?"

"Wh- Laura? I mean…the policy says that interoffice relationships are okay if they don't hurt the company…"

"You cheating on Astoria's best friend most definitely hurts the company!" Draco roared. Barry froze, staring at his boss as though petrified.

"You're a fuck up and a terrible manager," Draco enumerated, sitting back calmly. "And most of all you're an idiot for not realizing that your wife was the only thing keeping you in my good graces. Now, my initial thought was to fire you and make it so Flourish and Blotts wouldn't even hire you as a stock boy. But then I wouldn't want to be responsible for cheating Cheri out of the giant alimony check you're going to pay her each month. So you have a choice: Siberia or the poor house."

Draco held no interest in his sputtered responses or any particular pleasure when Barry inevitably accepted the job. Barry Taylor had already done his damage. He had devastated Astoria's closest friend, and had shattered the allusion of a perfect marriage. It would now be much more difficult to win her back, maybe even impossible.

Draco rubbed his face hard and sighed. After staring at his desk momentarily he rifled through the top drawer, pulling out a well-worn photo. It was of Astoria and he, wrapped up in a sheet together, both smiling victoriously. The camera had been used that night for a very particular and intimate purpose. Though Draco still had the collection of pictures documenting one of their more graphic fucks, he couldn't bring himself to really look at them. They made him feel depressed and a bit creepy.

But this one picture he kept with him, as he felt it summed up their past relationship so well. They both smirked independently, thinking they had just gotten the best of the other. Yet still they lay in each others arms, unwilling to leave the comforting embrace of the other.

It reminded him of how separate yet dependent they had been. Two independent souls who just happened to need one another. That's what he wanted again. He wanted that contrary relationship with that contradiction of a woman.

That photo gave him strength, and he felt even more determined to get her back.

It also made him incredibly randy.

* * *

_Fire and Salt-stone_

"Ms. Greengrass!" Cecilia Rodriguez called out, chasing quickly after her employer as her Quick-Quotes-Quill and parchment followed suit. Astoria didn't look back from her march, knowing her young but able assistant was more than used to it.

"Ceci, I am really in a rush. Only tell me if it's actually important," she said quickly, inhaling her morning coffee as she strode to her office. Cecilia nodded curtly, tossing the three messages from Mrs. Greengrass in the trash immediately.

"Mr. Zimmerman from Lincoln & Mackey Investing flooed this morning. You apparently didn't initial one of the forms correctly…"

"I hate investment firms," Astoria spat. "They are horribly litigious, unimaginative, and just take other people's money in the end. I'm only making them a fortune letting them represent my products. Tell him to send the bloody forms over and I'll sign _again_. Next."

"A Mr. Garber wrote asking to confirm a reference and request from you. Apparently he hasn't been a divorce lawyer in twenty-five years and has never taken a case so small…"

"Tell him he will do as I say, unless he wants to start sniffing after some other wealthy English family," Astoria commanded. "He will take Cheri's case and get her everything."

"He'll definitely know that's from you," Cecilia replied, taking the quill in her hand and writing her own note. Astoria ignored the sassy side comment as Cecilia's loyal but independent attitude was one of the assets that made her an assistant interesting enough to keep.

"Okay, there is a letter from your Ministry. You still have to pay off your arson fine for burning Barry's broom closet down and salting his lawn…which that part I don't really understand," she inquired, pushing her black rimmed glasses up her face.

"It makes the grass not grow and brings down the value of his house, which is the only asset Cheri doesn't want," Astoria explained nonchalantly. "Take the money out of my rainy day fund."

"Done," Cecilia remarked, grinning slightly at the wondrous nerve of her boss. "Next, I see on your schedule you want staff meetings for tomorrow and Friday, and I really think you need to move them to Monday."

"Excuse me?" Astoria demanded, stopping in her stead as she turned incredulously to the girl. Sly comments were one thing, but this was out right insubordination.

"I meant no disrespect," Cecilia exclaimed coolly, "it's just, well, tomorrow is Thanksgiving and usually businesses get at least that and the Friday off."

"Oh," Astoria exclaimed, having forgotten all about the American holiday. "That's the one where you celebrate taking all the land from the Indians, right?"

"Not quite," Cecilia humored. "Now days it's an excuse to stuff yourself full of food, get drunk, and watch Qudditch. In fact, I have something for you!"

Cecilia dipped into her bag and pulled out a slightly crumpled paper bag that emitted a delicious smell.

"I made pumpkin empanadas with my abuela last night. Most Americans eat pumpkin pie but we throw in Mexican dishes to our dinner too. I thought you might like some."

"Oh," Astoria replied again, feeling an edge of guilt as she took the bag.

"Fine. Send out a memo to the staff that you can have your bloody holiday, but expect Monday to be hell," Astoria dictated, smiling slightly at Cecilia's ploy. "Is that it?"

"Well there is one more thing," Cecilia said slowly, opening Astoria's office door for her. "This came to you. I don't know if it's by mistake because I assume there would be flowers or something in it but…"

Cecilia paused as she watched her boss stare at the beautiful but empty pot profoundly. Astoria dipped her hand down slightly and ran it across the dark and rich looking soil that lay in swirls in the pot. She took a scoop of the substance and brought it close to her face, staring at it in absolute wonder.

"It's…Atlantium," she whispered, her voice shaking as though she couldn't believe what she saw.

"It's dirt," Cecilia stated flatly, raising her eyebrow as though her boss had gone mad.

"Not just any dirt!" Astoria exclaimed, carefully patting all the particles back down. "It's volcanic soil taken from the island of Atlantis. It's the rarest and most fertile soil in the world!"

"Atlantium?" Cecilia repeated. "But I thought the merpeople wouldn't let anyone take things from Atlantis."

"You can get anything on the black market, Ceci," Astoria reminded, transfixed with the gift.

"And wouldn't it be all salty?" she asked, staring down at the pot that was putting Astoria into such a whirlwind.

"Some of it has been preserved. Herbologists have died trying to get some of this soil! It produces the best plants you could ever dream of!" Astoria cried.

"Wow, must be like super expensive. Who sent this to you?"

Astoria's face dropped. Her excitement had been so consuming she hadn't stopped to think about that yet.

"Get out," she ordered quietly.

"What? But we still have to…"

"I said get out," she repeated, waving her hand so her door opened. She ignored the Spanish curses her assistant muttered under her breath as she read the attached card.

_I know how you don't care much for flowers, but I thought this might brighten up your day. Despite what you might tell yourself you look the most beautiful when you smile._

_Love always,  
Draco_

Astoria fumed at the cheap trick to try and win her affection and crumpled the card in her hand. The expensively cheap, extremely thoughtful and time consuming trick…one which the bastard _knew_ she couldn't throw away…

Astoria looked into the pot again, touched and angered all at the same time she could literally feel her two minds splitting at the seams. After letting out all the curses she knew she tossed the pot unceremoniously by the window and was set on forgetting it.

That lasting a whole of thirty seconds, she quickly swiveled around in her chair to inspect it once more. Sighing, she took an old cup of water and gently poured it into the sun soaked pot. The instant the water touched the surface a small green and red sprout popped out of the soil, its leaves bending and curling until they formed a makeshift heart.

It was the most amazing and disgusting thing she had ever seen.

* * *

_We'll Take a Cup of Meanness Yet for Auld Lang Syne_

"Come on, Cheri," Astoria urged, tugging on the reluctant woman's hand. "It's already 11:30. We'll miss out on the whole thing if we wait much longer."

"I don't know, Astoria," Cheri mewed, staring down at her heeled feet. "It's just…too soon to go out and celebrate. The divorce only went through two weeks ago…"

"And you've been barricaded in your flat since then!" Astoria exclaimed back, jutting out her hip. "Trust me a little interaction will do you good."

"Why can't I just hide? You did," she pouted. Astoria stopped suddenly at the comment and mulled it over. If almost anyone else had said such a thing she would have gone off on them and left them in the frozen street. With Cheri however she could only sigh.

"You don't want to handle things like me," Astoria replied truthfully. "Besides, it'll be a spot of fun. We'll take shots till midnight and put this horrible year behind us."

"Oh…alright. I'm already out and dressed anyways," Cheri conceded.

"That's the ticket!" Astoria grinned, grabbing Cheri's hand once again and pulling her into the crowded pub. She expertly weaved them through the masses, the majority of whom were already past drunk. Cheri and Astoria having already consumed a bottle of champagne each she knew it would not be long until they joined them.

"Two of your strongest shots," Astoria proclaimed to the hassled looking bartender.

"Make it four, and put it on my tab," a voice stated behind her. She felt her nerves twist before even turning around.

"I know, I know, 'what the hell am I doing here'?" Draco said with a smirk, beating her to the punch. Astoria eyed the bored countenance of Theodore Nott leaning nonchalantly against the bar before rounding on his infuriating friend.

"I swear I'm about to put a Restraining Curse on you," she spat, handing a shot to Cheri who drained it and immediately ordered another one.

"What, I'm not allowed to go to a pub on New Year's?" Draco asked innocently, the threat of being cast aside by a 50 foot force field hardly fazing him.

"If you think for a damn moment that I'm going to believe that you just _happened_ to know where I was tonight…" she warned through gritted teeth. "_Again…"_

"I may have had a hint of your ware bouts," he conceded with a guiltless shrug.

_Damn, Daphne has a big mouth_, she cursed to herself. She turned to move away and grab Cheri but was blocked by Nott who handed the increasingly inebriated blonde yet another drink. Astoria was further angered by Draco's foresight to bring a wingman to distract her now ranting friend.

"So I hear you're about to launch a new whole new cleansing line," Draco stated, changing the subject quickly. "If you need some capital for advertising, I might know a firm that could cut you a phenomenal deal…"

Astoria grinned as he checked his nails smoothly, more than happy to address this topic.

"I already have a deal with the best firm around: Lincoln & Mackey, with Zimmerman representing me personally."

She left out the part how she and Zimmerman despised each other and how she was more than certain he would try and screw her out of business the moment he could, finding too much satisfaction in the detesting sneer Draco wore upon hearing the news.

"Lincoln & Mackey," he spat, taking a swig of his drink, "a bunch of morons. You could do much better…"

"Draco Abraxus Malfoy, I wouldn't work with you if you were the last man…firm… on earth!" she stated determinedly, crossing her arms.

"Well that might soon be the case," he replied smugly, regaining his composure. "L&M and I happen to be contending for some of the same businesses. One of which will bring about an instant 20% increase in profits when I win."

"My statement still stands," Astoria stated flatly, unimpressed by his boast.

"Alright, well let's switch topics then," Draco grinned, letting the gathering crowd push him closer to her as they amassed for the countdown. "How about the fact that tonight could have been, and still could be, our two year anniversary?"

"Why the fuck would I want to talk about that?" she demanded, folding her arms.

"Oh come on now, Azzy. Even you _must_ have thought about it at least once tonight. I know I've been thinking about it all week," he stated, taking a swig of his beer as he all but stood on top of her. His closeness was frustrating as she was immersed in his scent and warmth . It would be almost impossible in this moment to push away from him as the pub was so tightly packed, but a small part of her couldn't help but relish in once again being consumed by his presence.

"I don't ever _have_ to do anything," she sneered, pushing her face into his defiantly as the bar was filled with the chants of descending numbers. They stood that way for a few seconds, their faces inches apart. Deep inside she felt both a passionate desire and a familiar habit to kiss him when standing in this position. Her stomach fluttered as her eyes narrowed at his lips, recalling how soft they were and how skillfully commanding his tongue was. As the seconds fell from six to five to four she felt herself growing lost in her need, her inhibitions all but tumbling to the beer soaked floor as Draco's face slowly came closer.

"Three, Two, One, Happy New Year!"

And on that inevitable and world proclaimed chant Astoria lifted her glass to her lips, pushing a good four inches of distance between herself and danger. Draco smirked at this action and simply clinked his beer bottle to her glass lightly in cheers before taking his own sip.

"Cheers, Azzy. And thank you for the Victory Kiss," he expressed with a smile.

"Victory Kiss?" she exclaimed. "What kiss? I didn't kiss you!" She felt her face flushing in anger and confusion as he once again leaned in close, whispering his explanation tantalizingly in her ear.

"Yes," he agreed, "but nor did you kiss anyone else."

Astoria felt her rage bubble up through her emotions as she realized his distractive ruse. She immediately pushed away from him and made for the bar to find Cheri. Her mouth dropped when she found her friend all but pinning Nott against the bar as she kissed him, her hands running through his hair as his began to snake their way down below her waist.

"Come on, Cheri!" Astoria demanded, prying her drunken friend off a smirking Nott. Cheri stumbled a bit at the pull but obediently followed. Astoria was set on taking them home immediately to put Cheri to bed when she remembered one thing. She stopped right in front of Draco, watching him grin like the foolish wanker that he was before making her move. She released her hold on Cheri just long enough to pull the nearest man away from his group of friends. She spun him around, put her hands on his face, and snogged him for a full five seconds before pushing him off her. After grabbing the stumbling Cheri they vanished from the pub, though Astoria did grant herself a small peek at Draco's flummoxed expression.

"You were right," Nott said slyly, casually wiping the pink lipstick off his mouth. "Coming with you to this dump wasn't a complete waste of time."

"Shove off, Nott," Draco muttered, sighing slightly. His attention then turned to the out-of-sorts man whose kiss had just been stolen.

"Who was that tart? And why isn't she riding my knob now…"

The speaker was immediately pulled out of his quandary as Draco grabbed him by the robes and slammed him into the bar.

"You will not talk about nor think about her, you understand me?" Draco threatened through gritted teeth.

"Oi! Yeah, I was just havin' a bit of a laugh is all!" the man cringed, throwing up his hands. Draco tossed him back on the bar, letting the drunk man slide to the floor. He immediately composed himself and nodded to Nott to leave before the bartenders kicked him out.

"So, a great start to a new year, huh Malfoy?"

* * *

_Pandora's Radio, Bugger's Box_

Astoria shivered as she passed her flat window, the bitter February air cutting through the pane. The New York winter had rivaled that of England's at certain times, and after three weeks without seeing the sun she had opted to stay home for the day and sulk properly.

She dropped an un-open parcel on her table. It was a Christmas gift from her parents that she had promptly forgotten about until she had found herself with nothing to do. It was a new radio, but not just any kind. It could supposedly tell what kind of humor you were in and played songs to fit your mood. Astoria didn't normally listen to a lot of music, but she felt the time was appropriate and was intrigued by the new invention.

She lifted the radio out carefully and started inspecting it thoroughly. Little Bugger leapt on to the table, sniffed the new device once, then went about his business claiming the much more interesting box as his own. Astoria stroked his tail before returning her attention to the radio. She couldn't really even decide what type of mood she was in, and wondered how sensitive the thing could really be. She fussed with the tuning knob slowly, staring mindlessly out the window. She currently had them enchanted to look out on the street, as a shop nearby often had great yet fleeting deals and she liked to check on it frequently. Droves of people passed her window, running from the cold as they faced the work day she escaped.

And then she saw him. Draco was across the street, wrapped head to toe in his black cloak and silver scarf but still unmistakable. Anger filled her at the sight. Had he found out that she was home and come to bother her on her day off? What a pest! Why she had allowed this ridiculous game to continue as long as it had was beyond her, and it really had to stop immediately…

But then she saw _her_. A woman: young, beautiful, and dressed in fashionably classy business robes. Her blonde hair curled softly, framing her ivory face. She said something that caused Draco to laugh as he held the door for both of them.

A pit dropped into her stomach. Who was that woman? Why was she with him, making him laugh? Why was it that every time she turned she saw him with some great figured, hay haired tart? And why…

Why did seeing Draco walk with another woman make her feel like her heart was being deflated? How could she be so angry yet so distraught at the same time? How could she _know_ that the woman who carried her own briefcase was most likely nothing more than a client, yet all she could do was picture Draco ripping off her skirt and bending her over a table like he had done to her countless times? How…

_1,2,3, I hate me,  
But there's no one else who I know how to be.  
4,5,6, your body makes me sick  
But don't take it away from me just yet._

_There's no one I can think of  
That I can stand less than you.  
Don't you want to touch my hand before you go?  
I think I'm confused. *_

Astoria jumped, having quite forgotten about the purpose and location of her new radio. Her heart beat rapidly and her palms sweat as the lyrics rolled around in her head. Her brain buzzed as she wondered just what the simple words could mean, and she found herself suddenly fighting off tears as the song's chorus repeated itself.

Bug was thoroughly displeased when his human grabbed the box he was nestled in and dumped him out. Astoria knew repercussions would follow from her ornery cat, as sure as she knew what she would find when she looked at the bottom of the package.

_A Caviler Enterprises Innovation_

She wondered if her parents had known. She wondered if it really mattered. She wondered whether or not she should have thought to call out before dropping the heavy radio out her thirty story window.

* Lyrics from Jenny Owen Young's _Coyote_

* * *

_Last Date_

"_Apparently I'm just not the type of girl who learns from my mistakes_," Astoria grumbled to herself, allowing the tall and handsome man to usher her in. That song had haunted her for a week and played itself in her dreams. Every time she had caught sight of Draco she had been filled with a desperate weakness and confusion, and had now taken to hiding and running off every time she caught sight of him. She feared she may do something foolish or fragile if they talked, but she could not shake the desperateness that pulled her in two directions.

It was just another insult to her pride that she felt she had no other choice but to hide.

It was just another blow to her heart when she admitted that she missed talking to him.

So she did what any rationally irrational person would do, she agreed to go out on a date with someone else. Erik Ledger was tall, American, hard-working, intelligent, perfectly cynical and interesting. He was the type of lawyer who liked to take on the cases of people who were undeniably guilty but incredibly rich, and he was an expert at bending evidence, stretching loopholes and smiling for the camera when he won another case. Astoria admired his daring, but mostly just needed something to take her mind off things. So when he offered to take her to an old British pub she had never been to in order for her to declare its authenticity, she said yes and half meant it.

Astoria felt dirty and guilty on the whole walk from their Apparition checkpoint, and she knew as he opened the door for her the date was doomed to fail. And that was before she saw just who sat at the end of the bar.

"I'll check in our coats," Erik stated, helping her out of her new pea coat as she stared sadly at the sight. Draco turned and faced the couple, a look of realization and a splash of hurt crossing his face. Astoria immediately left Erik behind and walked towards him.

"Draco…" Astoria said softly, urgently feeling as though she owed an explanation.

"Look, for once I swear I'm not following you," he cut in, staring determinedly in his drink. "This is just the only place that serves Ogden's."

Astoria felt a wave of shame and stupidity crash on to her, and she cursed herself and her bad luck. She felt at a loss of what to do or how to handle the situation, and at that very moment she wished she could just disappear.

"Hello, I'm Erik Ledger," her date cut in, slipping a familiar and possessive arm around her waist. "I'm here with Astoria tonight."

"Draco Malfoy, an old friend," Draco responded, his eyebrow cocking at Erik's hold before shaking his hand.

"Ria, babe, I got you a white zin…"

Astoria immediately turned around, finally discovering a course of action she felt comfortable taking.

"That is _not _my name!" she cursed, jerking away from his arm. "It's _**Asto**_ria, and if you had any brains below that overdone hair of yours you would be intelligent enough to remember it!"

"Whoa, chill out," he demanded, throwing up his hands.

"I will certainly not chill out! I do not like nick names, do not like being touched, I _despise_ having someone think they know what's best for me, but most of all I don't like you. Leave."

Erik Ledger's eyes almost popped out of his skull from being attacked so harshly by a woman who a minute ago was walking gracefully by his side. He cursed her, a lashing she quickly and skillfully rebutted, and he stormed out muttering English girls weren't what he expected.

This quick exit left Draco and Astoria alone at their end of the bar. Her haughty strength caused by her forced anger quickly evaporated as she once again descended into guilt and misery. She slumped half-heartedly on to the stool next to him, placing her head in her hand shamefully.

"Do you still take your whiskey dressed?" Draco asked after a few moments, cutting the silence. Astoria merely nodded, feeling another stab of guilt as he remembered her favorite drink.

"Are you…okay?" Draco asked quietly, watching her suck down half her drink in one go.

"Oh just swell," she retorted sarcastically. "That's always my favorite reaction to have five minutes into a date I spent an hour getting ready for."

"Well I don't blame you in the slightest," he replied lightly, and though her head remained in her hands she suspected a smile on his face. "He ordered you a White Zinfandel? In the dead of winter? Honestly these Americans have _no _taste."

Astoria couldn't help but pull her face out of her hands and stare at him with grateful exasperation.

"I may have panicked a bit," she agreed, "perhaps overreacted. Then again I didn't need you taking him out and Stunning him."

"I wouldn't have done that," he stated, shaking his head calmly and looking straight forward. A slight jolt of surprise and an intense childish desire to pout engulfed her at the sentence. Did that mean he didn't care if she dated? Was he through with perusing her? It had been almost four months of her turning him down on a daily basis. Even if he did love her as much as he claimed surely even he had had enough.

"The American government seems to take such personal attacks much harsher than England does, especially to someone prominent," he continued in a strange way, as though alluding to something he thought she may or may not know about.

"Okay…" she said with a frown, unsure of what he was speaking about and more concerned with the crushing feeling that accompanied the thought of her being too late.

"But seriously, is everything okay? How is …work?" he asked, pressing with concerned eyes.

"Work is fine!" she replied impatiently, almost irritated with his conservative question and his queer attitude. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I'm just…contemplative," he stated into his drink distantly. Astoria furrowed her eyebrows and gazed at him in annoyance at his unreadable behavior. Suddenly his head shot up, as though he had finally reached some sort of conclusion.

"Can I ask you something?" he inquired strongly.

"_May_ you ask me something," she corrected instantly, trying to hide from the intensity in his stare. He rolled his eyes and took her avoidance as a yes.

"That morning, the one where you used the last of your potion to get rid of my Dark Mark…" he started, letting the beginning of his question hang tentatively in the air. "Did you feel any regret or hesitation before?"

Astoria's eyes widened, not having expected such a question. The experience had been so long ago, yet she clearly remembered her dilemma. It was not an experience she was particularly keen to recall.

"Sure," she admitted, shrugging her shoulders as she focused her attention to her stirring straw. "I immediately wished I hadn't thought of it after I did."

"But you followed through with it anyways," he pressed, continuing his intent stare.

"Obviously," she spat in frustration, both at the question and the way she felt her cheeks flush at the personal interrogation.

"And…what about after?" he asked quietly.

"What are you trying to get at?" she demanded, finally confronting him properly. "Because if you are trying to guilt me into something so help me…"

"It's nothing like that," he interjected quickly. "I'm just…I have a business decision to make, and it's rather risky. I guess I could just benefit from your advice."

"Oh," Astoria replied softly, a small hint of further disappointment slipping past her determined filter. She swallowed the rest of her distress and waited the few seconds it took to fall into her twisted stomach to respond.

"I guess the only thing I regret about it is what happened to us afterwards," she answered miserably, barely strong enough to look him in the eye and give a weak half smile. "But I don't think me removing your Mark automatically lead to our demise. It was more us being…"

"Stubborn idiots?" Draco suggested, lightening the tension with a soft laugh.

"I suppose," Astoria agreed, though she could not bring herself to laugh along and merely focused on the weight that seemed to force her head down.

"So I guess what you are saying is the sacrifice in and of itself was worth it, because it was what felt right at the time, even though the particular course of action that came from that act was not what you hoped for?" he pressed.

"Erm…right," she replied slowly, not really following his train of logic from her statement. "What kind of business decision are you making?"

"Probably the worst one," he replied distantly, finishing the rest of his drink. "And it will most likely yield no positive results whatsoever."

"Then why the hell are you doing it?" Astoria pressed, her head shaking in disbelief. This did not sound like the business savvy Draco Malfoy she knew.

"Because," he shrugged distantly, getting out of his chair and throwing some gold down on the bar, "it's the right one. Barkeep, allow Ms. Greengrass to drink the rest of the night on my tab. I have a big day tomorrow."

He addressed the last sentence to her in farewell, nodding his head in goodbye.

"Wait, that's it?" she demanded, an angry hysteria slowly bubbling upwards.

Draco paused before he walked out the door, waiting a few tantalizing seconds before turning towards her.

"It's a shame that Erik was such a letdown. You look too beautiful to be alone."

And with that he left, leaving Astoria feeling worse than she felt before she started this whole date mess.

* * *

_Decisions, Decisions_

"Miss Greengrass, you most desist…"

"Fuck you!" Astoria yelled, pushing the weakling assistant out of her way as she marched to the lifts. "Get out of my way or else I'll _**burn**_ you too!"

The assistant thought about that for a moment before clearing the convicted arsoness' war path. She cried in fury, causing those exiting the lift to dash out of the confined space and those who needed to go to another floor to simply wait for the next elevator. Astoria entered the lift alone, punching the doors as soon as they closed.

She was at Lincoln & Mackey, and she was prepared to tear Zimmerman a new arsehole.

_Terminated._

That ball-less fucker had terminated her investment contract on hippogriff-shite grounds of some pathetic loophole he found in the system. She clutched the notice in her hand (the bastard didn't even have the prick to tell her in person!) that explained their reasons for letting her go.

A felon he had called her. A convicted felon who had failed to report her "incident" to their firm. Apparently Lincoln & Mackey frowned upon her little fire and salt stone lesson she had paid on Barry. Her "loose moral character", "inappropriate and brash actions", "inability to control herself", and her "complete apparent apathy for the law" were stated by Zimmerman as firm enough grounds to expel her from the company. They were charging her with breaking a clause in their contract, and they were going to sue her for almost everything.

If they thought her actions were brash and inappropriate when she was protecting a friend, they were in for a fucking rude awakening when they messed with her.

"Zimmerman, you worthless piece of shite, I'm going to fucking kill you for this!" she screamed, barging into the man's office with her wand outstretched. The gangly Zimmerman instantly relinquished his hands to the air, causing him to drop a box full of possessions to the ground. Her green eyes were fierce and clouded with revenge. It therefore took them a moment to comprehend the scene in front of her.

"You're too late," he spat with an irritated scowl, no longer afraid after recognizing his attacker. He went about picking up his box while the rest of his belongs marched themselves into trunks.

"What are you doing?" Astoria demanded, lowering her wand slightly as she watched the office pack itself.

"Isn't it obvious?" he scoffed, sitting down dejectedly into his seat. "I've been fired. Ironically because of your bout with pyromania."

"What?" Astoria demanded, folding her arms across her chest impatiently.

"Apparently this firm no longer gives a rat's ass about "moral clauses" or that they represent complete lunatics," he explained bitterly. "All that fucking matters is who you know."

"What are you babbling about?" she spat, feeling no remorse for his downtrodden demeanor.

"Like you don't already know," he replied, rolling his eyes. "The firm took the damn deal Cavalier Enterprise made them. If we renew your contract, Cavalier takes themselves out of the running for the Massey account, which is worth five times as much as you are."

"Wh-wh-what?" she stammered feeling certain she had not heard him right.

"That young bastard CEO of Cavalier met and made a deal with my bosses. He was the top contender in the Massey account and we were certain that little spoiled Limey had the deal. But yesterday he came in and said that if we didn't let you go he would back out of the running," Zimmerman explained, pushing up his glasses in distaste. "I don't know what his little game is. I told the bosses not to accept it. The deal makes absolutely no sense! By all accounts he is committing financial suicide. There has to be some catch, something he wants…aside from demanding that the person who tried to get rid of you was fired."

Zimmerman went about, grumbling about his fate and saying something about returning to Tulsa to work in his mother's dress shop.

Astoria paid no attention and instead walked shell shocked through the corridor. She wandered without knowing where she was going until she could move no further. Without warning she let out a sob and dived behind the sanctuary of an overwatered ficus near the staircase.

Her heart pounded as it sank to her stomach, her arms shaking as she wrapped them around her pallid legs.

What had she done? How had she let it come this far? She had been so selfish, pushing and demeaning him away but yet still keeping him around by not laying down a clear line. She had not wanted him, but neither did she want him to go. All because she hated him. All because she loved him.

She had been certain he had given up, and she had once again started to accept the all-encompassing pain that went with losing him. Again.

She had been surprised that pain had not killed her the first time. She felt certain the only thing that had saved her was her suppression. Consistently reminding herself that he had abandoned her, chosen work over her, let her suffer a miscarriage on her own and that he had never bothered to come looking for her was what allowed her to hate him and ignore any residual feelings. These things allowed her to sleep, if not well, at least in reassurance that she had done the right thing.

But now? Now she could no longer hide behind the image she had built of him. Draco Malfoy was a spoiled, stubborn, manipulative prick for sure, but he was so much more.

He had helped her sister keep her love.

He had given her best friend justice.

He had expanded his company to New York just to see her.

He had…

He had looked like she had delivered a fatal blow when she revealed her miscarriage.

He had tried to apologize for his actions before their break up, citing best, big picture intentions.

He had finally chased her after she ran, and had proposed to her in the perfect way. No romantic shite, no long wind drawn speech. Just a declaration that they both needed to get over themselves and that he was willing to do it first, forgoing his own pride because that was how much he loved her. He would push aside his biggest fault for her, and promised that he would be there no matter what.

And he had kept his promise. He had kept by her side despite her tantrums, her lack of acknowledgement, suppression of affection, and a few other immature moves involving other men. And when she had thought she had done enough damage and pushed him to the end, he made the biggest sacrifice of all: his company for hers.

He was right. She was an adult now; it was time to start acting like one. She had spent her entire life fighting the things that had held her back; her mother, her blood, her gender, and now the only thing getting in her way was herself. She needed to quit being such a selfish twit and just admit what she wanted. She could do that with everything else in her life, why couldn't she just do that about love?

Astoria took a deep breath and worked to clear her mind. For the first time in nearly two years she let her emotions go unrestrained and focused hard on what she wanted. She weighed all that he had done, good and bad. She thought of the man he was and who she felt like he could be. She thought of where she saw herself, what she really wanted out of life, and of the merits of being single and free.

Finally she reached her grand epiphany. It was so simple and elegant that she could not help but grin.

Astoria Anathema Greengrass had never been one to restrict herself. She took what she wanted and did not need an explanation or apology for her actions. It was simply who she was. She did not weep under wilted office plants, did not flinch in the face of danger, and would not deny herself.

"Excuse me, but you are not allowed to be here," an irritated woman scowled, finding an animated Astoria seated in the hallway.

"Do you mind? I'm having a life changing moment here," Astoria bitched, glaring at the woman for daring to interrupt her.

"You cannot be here unless you have an appointment!" the women repeated in flummox.

"Then make me one," Astoria challenged with a grin. "Tell Lincoln & Mackey that Astoria Greengrass is here to see them, and she is dying to see this new contract they have for her."

And with that Astoria jumped to her feet, flipping her hair over her shoulder and grabbing the abused ficus to nurture it back to health as she schemed viciously in the waiting room.

**_(A/N: So I am obviously a liar on two counts. One- it tooke me a month and a half to update, which is longer than ususal. But I put in a lot of stuff in this one so it's kind of like a bunch of mini chapters! And Two...there will probably be a few more chapters past the number I gave out earlier... forgive me? :) )_**


	30. I'll Keep You

I'll Keep You...

Draco Malfoy did his best to keep his posture as he leaned against the elaborate cobblestone fireplace, forcing himself to look interested in the idle chatter that filled the farce of a party while trying not to look like he was mulling over the serious missteps he had taken in his life.

Not that presentation even mattered at this point. His sole purpose for being at the function was to withdraw his offer of investment to one of the most prosperous wizards in America. Jay Massey had apparently seen a bit of himself in Draco and had taken a personal interest in Caviler Enterprises. He too was the son of a wealthy man who had lost it all. Thrown into temporary despair by his father's fall from grace, Jay had spent his life determined to never again flirt with the brink of poverty and created his own empire exceeding his ancestors. Jay and Draco were both raised as entitled sons who grew into self-made men. Massey had loved Draco's spirited ingenuity, and confided that he felt safer with a company that had so much to lose if it lost his account rather than tie himself to a firm like Lincoln & Mackey, who no longer seemed to care about their clients.

This had been the account that would have secured Draco's future. It would have pushed him into a new league, no longer just representing inventors and small businesses, but whole corporations. With the money he would make Draco would finally feel like he had returned to his rightful status. He had contacted the owners of his sold land to reclaim the Malfoy bounty that had been in his family for centuries. No longer would he have to kiss up to Flint and his silly broom factory, or allow Blaise to make him feel inferior. Tonight would have been the night that he had been dreaming about since the Battle of Hogwarts, when he made a determined pledge to gain back all he had lost and more.

But instead he would simply have to back out with little given reason; appearing to be the coward he was known for. He would have to watch as the two junior partners from Lincoln & Mackey swaggered pompously around Massey like smug kneazles, rubbing Draco's failure in his face. Worst of all his backing down would cause him to lose face in front of Massey, and in turn to the rest of the community. It was one thing to lose an investment bidding respectfully, but to bow out when he had a fairly good chance at winning? To turn his back on success for no clear reason? He would look like a coward and a fool, two perceptions he had been fighting for almost five years. His self-failure here would produce more than enough ammo for his enemies to shoot him down, and would destroy the begrudging respectability he had earned from society.

He was committing financial suicide, and all of it was for the most pathetic and most detestable reason: love.

Love; that once meaningless and ridiculous four letter word that had surrounded his life but held no place in it finally got the best of him. It was with love that Potter claimed he was able to best the Dark Lord. His willingness to sacrifice himself for everyone is what broke Voldermort's invincibility, and it was love that gave Potter that power in the first place.

Draco had always thought that was hippogriff shite. Love was only something that made you feel guilty for hurting your parents' feelings and something you used to capitalize on your birthday. It was not all powerful, wasn't worth mentioning to those you felt it towards, and it certainly wasn't worth sacrificing your life.

It was as though the cosmos had gathered to enact one final ironic punishment on him. For now he finally understood what the fuss was about. There was an actual reason behind all those stupid love songs and tragic romance stories. That accursed emotion _**was**_ strong enough to bring down such a powerful wizard who wrote the ancient magic off. Draco now understood what it meant to care so much for someone you would do anything for them, including sacrificing your biggest dream for theirs.

Everything he had built over these last few years was about to be demolished in the next few minutes, and it was all for a woman who didn't want him.

It was almost poetic, he admitted to himself. Many people, sometimes himself included, did not feel like he deserved the wealth and status he had gained through his company. And now he was losing it to the girl who had ripped his heart out. He would lose everything and gain nothing. He would be ruined, broke, and alone. Which, he supposed, was probably what he really deserved.

"_I would never have made it this far without her,_" he thought to himself sadly. "_At least I can use what I have now to help her be happy."_

Draco was torn from his thoughts with the soft touch of a woman's hand lightly gripping his shoulder.

"Hey there, Malfoy," the young woman said coyly, a suggestive smirk filling her pleasantly freckled and symmetrical face.

"Jennifer, you're looking beautiful as always," Draco smoozed in automatic greeting, not in the mood to try and further enchant one of his clients.

"It's nice to see you too," she scoffed in good humor, recognizing his lack of enthusiasm. "What's wrong with you? I figured you would be in much better sorts seeing as you're about to close a multi-million Galleon deal with Jay."

"You would think so," he replied distantly, trying to remain stoic to keep his face.

"I really hate to see the man who manages my trust fund to be so down and out," she stated in a sultry tone, grabbing his tie and running it playfully through her fingers. "Perhaps there is something I can do to help you enjoy your night?"

She accentuated her suggestion with a slight yank on his tie before smoothing the fabric back out on his chest. Draco couldn't help but twitch in excitement, such a ploy having always worked to get his blood boiling. His eyes fell down Jennifer's supple body and young face, her perfectly arched eyebrows cocked seductively. Her red strappy dress displayed an enticing amount of cleavage, bringing Draco a painful reminder how long it had been since he had fucked a woman. Four months celibate during his chase for Astoria; the longest he had gone without sex since he had lost his virginity. Even after Astoria left it didn't take him long to drown his sorrows by spreading the legs of any pretty girl he could coax into taking home (or in a back alley way). He could not help but think how easy it would be to stunt his pain by taking this spoiled little heiress into the cloak closet and fuck her till she was covered in his seed. That visual alone was enough to make him hard.

"I'm afraid my worries are out of both of our hands, though I do appreciate your concern Ms. Middleton."

A flash of surprise and distain covered Jennifer's face, an indicator of how rarely she was denied her wants. She let out an irritated scoff before walking away, swaying her hips as she did.

Draco couldn't help but watch remorsefully and curse himself for both his luck and the fact that he had already finished his drink.

"Too bad, she really was rather cute," a voice declared behind him suddenly. The utter familiarity of the raspy tone caused him to jump in surprise, and Draco turned as quickly as his heart raced.

"Astoria!" he exclaimed, blinking in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"She's a little top-heavy for my tastes," Astoria continued, swishing confidently by his side as she made eyes with the fuming heiress, "but then again you always preferred them with big tits."

"She's a client's daughter. She's only seventeen," he explained quickly, still taken aback at her sudden appearance.

"I wouldn't think either of those things would stop you," she bantered back with a smirk.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded again, flustered over being caught staring at a barely legal girl. Astoria turned to face him directly, her lips upturned into what appeared to be a smile. But Draco knew better than to misinterpret the gesture as a friendly one. A foreboding, icy chill slipped down his spine before she even began to speak.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out about your little deal?" she hissed into his ear, keeping face in front of the party while her tone dripped with hate. Such an audacious accusation immediately caused him to inflame with rage.

"Do you even know what the fuck you're talking about?" he barked back, unable to suppress a snarky tone as he all but shook in instant anger.

"How many times have I told you I don't need anyone swooping in to save me?" she demanded, keeping her wretchedly snotty inflection as her green eyes danced with bitter passion.

Draco lost it. He grabbed her arm tightly and dragged her close to him for attention. He stared deep down into her wild, self-righteous eyes and snarled mouth and he burned with resentment. How had he ever thought such a creature was worth losing everything for? He had denounced his lineage, nearly destroyed his family, placed his life on hold for her, and was now planning to paralyze his career, and for what? For love? Love for her?

"Look Succubus, do you have any idea of what I have gone through for you? I'm risking everything to help!" he snarled, jerking her arm angrily as he spoke.

"I don't need help!" she hissed back, eyes burning with intensity.

"You most certainly do, you mad bitch. We wouldn't be in this mess if it weren't for your little bout of pyromania!" he replied, his nerves cinching with intense aggravation with every passing second. His animosity was furthered as his broken heart couldn't help but flutter at feeling her skin against his, or being close enough to her to take in her clean, leafy scent. He hated her, but most of all he hated that after all these years and everything she had put him through he still wanted to kiss her neck more than he wanted to break it.

"I don't take kindly to infidelity," she answered simply, shrugging easily despite the vice grip he had on her. "What was I supposed to do, just let Barry get away with what he had done?"

"I had already handled that," Draco spat back in ire. "If you opened your eyes for a bloody moment you would have seen that!"

"I don't know what the hell makes you think you have the right to go behind my back and do these things for me…"

"Bloody hell, you miserable, ungrateful cunt…" Draco interrupted, his heart pounding at the complete lack of sensibility and gratitude of this woman.

"Don't you dare speak while I'm talking!" Astoria demanded, and with a quick flash her hand entangled itself in his tie, giving her more leverage as her wand pressed itself into his neck. Draco froze in unwitting fear.

"I don't know why after all that we have gone through you still feel like you have to go behind my back and save me from myself," she repeated, but this time her voice dropped its harshness and adopted a soft tone. "But I thank my fucking stars you were too stubborn to quit."

"What!" Draco snapped, adrenaline still reeling from their fight and her eminent threat.

Astoria smiled again, but this time Draco could not be sure of its meaning. In fact, Draco didn't dare think of anything as her face softened and her pointed wand slipped back into her robes.

"You're a stubborn fool, Draco Malfoy, and that's usually something I can't stand in anyone else but myself. You have no idea how much I have wanted to kill you over all the shite you have done…but now I fear I may want to kill you if you ever stop," she answered, biting her lip slightly as she looked up at him. A small flame of heat flickered in his center as he dare hoped to interpret what she might be saying. This flame only continued to grow as she rested her free hand lightly on his upper arm, causing her body to gently touch his own.

"What are you saying?" he asked sternly, swallowing the warmth that rose up into his chest.

"Don't be thick, Draco," she replied in exasperation. She then dipped her hand into her robes and clutched something in her palm. She brought the object up between them before revealing what it was.

The elegant, emerald encrusted diamond ring glinted fiercely in the candlelight from the party as she presented it to him quietly.

"I thought you said you were going to burn it in your fireplace," he reminded simply, continuing to suppress his own fire that spread through him rapidly.

"I'm a liar," she shrugged truthfully, her grin widening with the admittance. "It's what I do."

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with this now?" he asked, impressed at his own cool reserve shielding his mounting excitement.

"Your first proposal was rubbish, no proper woman would accept such an offer of marriage," she stated matter-of-factly, forcing the ring into his hand as she spoke. "However, I do welcome you to…try again."

Draco watched a hint of her detachment flicker as she spoke those last two words. In a flash he saw the vulnerable young woman that was buried under her aloof intellect and fetching dress. Her captivating green eyes wavered in uncertainty as she put herself out on a ledge. As the moments passed without a response from him he saw a fear in her grow as the possibility of rejection mounted.

It was a feeling he knew all too well. It was a pain he had carried with him for the past four months, hell the past two years, as he mourned and chased after this woman. All that pain she had caused him and now finally she stood in front of him, asking _**him**_ to marry _**her**_.

His first instinct was of how he now held a position of power over her, how he could finally watch the misery he had felt for so long cross her face with a mere word of dismissal from him. The need to see such pain encompassed him, and he found himself fueled by vengeance.

"No," he replied, folding his arms across his chest firmly, withdrawing the ring from sight. "No, I don't think I will."

And there it was. Her face trembled like the ground in the first wave of an earthquake. He could hear the slight intake of breath she drew as if her lungs were collapsing. Those defiant green eyes of hers began to well with tears, and for a moment he could see all the unbearable heartbreak and loss she had caused him to feel before she cast her gaze to the side in shame.

"_Let her feel all the hurt and humiliation you have felt_," he thought to himself greedily. "_Let her suffer the same fate you have suffered for the last four months…_"

…for a total of four seconds.

"You already got an honest, heartfelt proposal from me, which is more than you deserve," he continued, grabbing her chin so she was forced to look at him. Her chest heaved in anger and her eyes shone like a trapped and wounded animal preparing for a fatal fight.

"My previous offer will not change," he continued, holding out the ring between them and presenting it to her casually. "You can either take it or leave it."

Draco finally allowed a fraction of his intense and encompassing elation crack through in the form of a warm smile. For half a moment Astoria looked up at him dumbstruck, and he laughed to himself as he pictured her reeling mind interpreting his gesture. When she finally caught up to the situation he chuckled softly out loud as she rolled her eyes in begrudging respect, realizing he had gotten her while he was getting her. His smile widened as it was becoming increasingly impossible to contain his jubilation, and his arm slipped into its rightful place around her waist for the first time in nearly two years. Astoria too seemed unable to contain herself, though she worked hard to look offended as she smiled. To her there was only one way she could think of to express just what she felt or what she wanted.

She balled up her left fist and raised it between them in a swift motion as if she meant to strike him. She stopped centimeters away from his chin, causing him to jump back in defense. With her own happy smirk she then let her ring finger alone pop up, presenting it to him in a similar manner as an obscene gesture. Draco marveled at her wit and dexterity for a moment before slyly stepping to place his free hand back on her waist. He grinned at her coyly as he gently kissed the tip of her finger, pushing the appendage past his lips. Astoria shuddered freely as he playfully nipped and sucked on the end, placing one more delicate kiss as he pulled away. He then pulled out the ring and slid it teasingly slow down her finger, his eyes staring into hers hungrily as he did, turning the life changing and intimate motion into a powerfully suggestive preview of what he planned to do to her.

"I guess you're lucky that I'm not a proper woman after all," she whispered, closing her eyes as the ring rested perfectly on the hilt of her finger.

"I wouldn't have wanted you if you were," he replied back through a growl, pulling her in closer so she leaned up against his chest. With that final bump of contact he felt the growing flame inside him burst into life, ascending to every tip of his body and exploding his every nerve. His heart raced as he thought of how badly he wanted her and how much he needed to take every inch of her. At that moment nothing else in the world mattered.

He finally had her.

Astoria nestled her head up against his heart, elated and soothed by its quick beats. She took her first breath in what seemed like days and felt alive for the first time in what felt like years. One tear fell freely down her face, her only allowance of such an action. The single drop was loaded with all the stress and anxiety she had felt over the past months, and with its release she felt her loneliness melt away. Draco's hand gently stroked her chin, lifting her face up to look at his. With a warm smile he gently wiped her tear away. Such gentle affection threatened a fierce new round of sobs to escape her lips, and she shuddered uncontrollably with the realization of the severe near loss of this man from her life.

Draco had never wanted to do so many things at once. He felt the urge to shout, laugh, cry, fuck, run, faint, jump, shake and fuck some more. But instead he settled on a deep breath and rested his forehead on top of hers. He could feel the muscles in her face stretch in to a grateful smile while his did the same. All other thoughts flew out the window as he took another deep breath. It was suddenly ludicrous that he do anything else but kiss her, and his smile widened over his ability to once again do such a thing.

Astoria was more than ready, and tilted her head back with closed eyes to feel his lips on hers again.

"Ah Malfoy, there you are!" a robust voice called out, breaking the magic in a New York minute. Both of their heads snapped around to see a powerful man walking towards them with a heavily made up woman clutched to his arm.

"Oh Jay, they were having a moment!" the woman remarked, her thickly mascaraed eyelashes blinking with every word.

"Well this is supposed to be a business gathering after all, I've wanted to talk to the man all night!" Jay replied without remorse, used to getting what he wanted when he wanted it

"Forgive me," Draco replied quickly, reality and location sobering him out of the happiest moment of his life. "I was just having a conversation with my…fiancée."

Draco failed to fully suppress the smile that broke out on his face with saying the word.

"Fiancée?" a righteously whiney voice called out behind the Masseys, the girl crossing her arms in indignation. "I didn't know you were engaged!"

"Neither did he," Astoria answered coolly, smiling coyly at the young Jennifer.

"I don't get it," Mrs. Massey said under her breath to her husband, perplexed at the situation.

"Must be that British humor thing. Monty Python and such," Massey replied back knowingly.

"Who is she?" Jennifer demanded, taking a step forward in protest.

"Jenny, honestly! What has gotten into you?" her mother demanded in shock.

"I don't think it's so much what has gotten into her as is what has not," Astoria offered casually. "However, to answer your question I'm Astoria Greengrass."

"Surely not the same Astoria Greengrass who's created 'Greener Rejuvenates'?" Mrs. Massey gawked. "I am absolutely in love with your cosmetics! Nothing has come anywhere near as close to getting rid of my crow's feet…"

"Alena," Massey interrupted quickly, "you're babbling. Why not go get us some drinks? Take that daughter of yours with you. Merlin knows she's been sneaking drinks all night anyways."

Taking the hint the two women walked away, the elder illuminated with excitement as the younger glowered with adolescent angst.

"You'll forgive my wife and step-daughter," Massey casually, stirring his own drink. "They're both…well, stupid. But you are _that_ Astoria Greengrass I presume?"

Massey's eyes flickered up and down her, sizing her up as he waited for her response.

"I am unaware of any other," she replied with a shrug, begrudging the man who interrupted her moment.

"Azzy," Draco hissed quietly, flinching at her brazen attitude in front of such a powerful man. Astoria cocked her eyebrow at him, wondering why he expected anything else from her. Massey merely laughed.

"Well that is quite an impressive operation you have for yourself, Ms. Greengrass. The two of you are quite the power couple," Massey mused. "Only as I understand it you are represented by Lincoln & Mackey…"

"That is correct," a new man replied, closely followed by his smirking associate. "We've represented her from the beginning, and have just re-signed a contract that has been very beneficial to us…"

"I think you need to check your facts before you go telling people who you do and do not represent," Astoria replied coolly, gaining a quick audience from the surrounding men.

"What do you mean?" the Lincoln & Mackey lackey inquired quickly, a look of worry crossing his face.

"I believe as of yesterday I was let go from your little company," she answered back.

"Let go? Why the hell would you let her go?" Massey asked the two, a look of disapproving confusion crossing his face.

"I set a man's lawn on fire. It was all resolved properly through the courts but that just wasn't good enough for them I suppose. I assume it is because they are afraid of a little _excitement_," she suggested with a seemingly careless shrug.

"Or a little retribution," Massey added, his impression with the young witch growing.

"We assure you, Mr. Massey, that it did not quite…"

"Anyways," Astoria interrupted quickly, stepping her and Draco in front of the befuddled L&M representatives, "it did free me up to join a younger firm that thrives off a bit of a challenge."

Draco, who had been just as shocked by this bit of news as the rest of the party, took a moment to process just what she was talking about. It was a second unnoticed by the others, but one that placed an edge of exasperation in Astoria's eyes. That look was all he needed to finally get kicked into gear and join in the conversation.

"Yes, I was more than happy to pick up Ms. Greengrass after such poor judgment from my peers. However, her contract did come with a few _harsh_ stipulations on my independence," Draco continued, not so subtly taking Astoria's hand and stroking her new ring in front of all to see.

"I see," Massey replied with a laugh. "You have quite the female guile, Ms. Greengrass, bagging both a new investor and a husband all in the same move."

"I believe in being efficient," Astoria replied with a flippant grin. "Besides, I want to make sure I can keep a close eye on where my money goes."

"You mean _our_ money," Draco bantered, slipping his arm back around her waist.

"Yes, but by _our_ money, what do we really mean?" she inquired, tilting her head in an you-know-better sort of way.

"Ah yes, _your _money," Draco grumbled not unhappily.

"That sort of thing does happen when you tie the knot," Massey nodded with a grin. "Just be grateful yours seem to be in very capable hands. I swear if my wife buys one more crystal kneazle I'm going into the market for the 5th Mrs. Jay Massey."

The three laughed heartily, effectively cutting out the blindsided Lincoln & Mackey partners out of the conversation.

"But all half jokes aside, a grand congratulations to the two of you," Massey said with a smile. "I only hope, Astoria, that you will not have your fiancé too wrapped up in your wedding plans, as I was rather hoping to use him for a few of my business ventures."

"I assure you his presence will hardly be necessary on my end," she replied glibly, though both hers and Draco's hands clinched in excitement.

"Wonderful! Well I'll leave you two lovebirds to it then. I'll have my people contact your office Monday, Malfoy."

"I look forward to it, Massey," Draco replied with believable casualness, though his insides nearly exploded with glee. He quickly turned to embrace Astoria to share congratulations, yet found her steadfastly smirking straight ahead. Draco had quite forgotten about the two junior partners from Lincoln & Mackey. Their previous smug looks and his torment over forfeiting to them vanished from his life the moment Astoria walked back into it. She however seemed thoroughly aware of their precise existence, and was elated to lean back into Draco's chest comfortably as they confronted her.

"What the hell do you think you're pulling?" the taller of the two hissed, putting his face frighteningly close to Astoria's. Draco's arm shot out immediately into the man's shoulder, pushing him away as a fierce protectiveness washed over him. A flicker of fear crossed the face of the cushy businessman unused to physical confrontation. Such dominate power being asserted, Draco was able to push past his anger and formulate a quick and cunning scheme.

"I wouldn't do that," Draco stated coolly. "In times like these it is better to just relax and acknowledge you have been bested by superior strategic forces."

"Strategic forces?" the shorter one demanded, his burly face going red. "Don't act as if you had this planned all along!"

"But of course we did, why else would my fiancée risk her standing with your firm at the same time we were both bargaining over such a large account?" Draco inquired as though it were the clearest thing in the world. "It got her out of your lousy excuse for an investment firm and freed her to come join me, while simultaneously lowering your lazy defense against Massey. It was all really brilliantly played, wasn't it, my dear?"

"Yes, darling. Though I must say due credit must be given to the non-supportive roles of Messrs Lincoln and Mackey and their perfectly clueless puppets for really owning up to their roles," Astoria added instantly, smiling wickedly at the two as Draco's arm returned around her.

"I agree a nomination is in order, though allow me to give you one critic," Draco stated, walking determinedly up to the taller businessman. In an instant his aloof façade dropped back into offended rage, and in the swiftest of motions he had his hands grasping the man's coat before he could escape.

"It would do well for you to _**never**_ get into my wife's face like that again. For I assure you if you do you will remain alive to watch yourself be ripped limb from limb, and that's only after _**she **_gets done with you. I cannot assure the same status when it comes my turn," Draco hissed menacingly. He accentuated his threat by flicking off his hold as if something offensive were stuck to his hands. The taller businessman stumbled at the throw before he and his associate quickly scampered off.

Draco watched in luscious satisfaction at the fear he induced, allowing his cold anger to subside at their retreating backs. After a few moments he turned, spirits quiet brightened, only to see Astoria with an apprehensive smile on her face.

"Whatever is the matter with you?" he asked drolly, watching her bounce a bit nervously.

"You called me your wife," she replied, her arms crossed as her smile flickered back and forth.

"I suppose I did," he replied with a slight laugh, both relishing in the term and the strange effect it seemed to have over her. "And how exactly does that make you feel?"

"Nauseous," she replied instantly through a bit lip. "Though I suppose partially in a good way. Like perhaps one day, with some counseling, I'll be able to accept the fact that I willingly put myself in the position of…no, no it's probably best you don't call me that for a while."

Draco let out an amused laugh as he watched her shudder. When she finally regained her composer enough to look at him, she was immediately sobered by the intense and longing look he gave her. Without thought or motion she walked back to him breathlessly, obediently drawn to his commanding presence. She stopped just short of in front of him, ensuring that though she made the longer journey he took the last step. Draco smirked as he took a single stride, rolling his hands across her accentuated hips. Astoria closed her eyes and breathed deeply in anticipation as he stared down at her intently. With the softest of strokes against her side she felt her innards melt with pleasure, and she leaned against him dying to feel his warm, jagged breath against her neck.

"Astoria! Azzy, dear! He calls her Azzy, isn't that precious? Yoo-hoo, Azzy!"

Draco immediately halted his enticements with a wince, shutting his eyes in prayer as Astoria's relaxed body instantly went ridged.

"I'm sorry," he whispered quickly as Mrs. Massey continued to call for "Azzy" across the room. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

When he finally dared to peek he found her with her own eyes closed, breathing deeply as she centered herself.

"What does she want?" she demanded sternly. Draco looked over to see Mrs. Massey waving her over to a large group of excited middle aged witches.

"To hobnob," he answered honestly, looking down at her apologetically.

"I hate this place," she spat in ire. "You're turning me into a businessman's wi…companion. Now I'm going to be dragged into conversations about stationary and whose husband is sleeping with their secretary!"

"Astoria, you have your own business, remember!" Draco encouraged. "You can come talk with the men. Come smoke cigars, drink brandy, and talk about whose secretary you're sleeping with!"

"I'd rather have tea with Grindelwald, a dementor, and my mother," she spat, cursing and sighing at her two options.

"Then what would you like to do?" he asked in exasperation, throwing up his hands. Astoria responded with a seductive smile, her eyes darkening with lust and suggestion. As had happened continuously throughout the party, Draco immediately blocked out the rest of the people and the fact that he should be consorting with new clients. Instead it was all he could do not to trip over himself as he followed her out of the grand room and into the hallway.

Astoria walked with purpose towards the exit, swaying her hips in victory as she counted down the steps to an Apparition point. Draco was quite aware of her triumphant gait, just as he was keenly observant of how her silky fitted dress alluringly clung to her hips and backside, perfectly accentuating her curves. Suddenly it didn't matter that they were a minute away from being able to whisk back to his hotel room. It had been almost two years since he had had her, and that was more than a minute too long.

Without warning Draco grabbed her quickly by the arm, simultaneously yanking open the nearest door. Astoria struggled in shocked protest but was unable to escape as he unceremoniously shoved her into what happened to be a cloak closet.

"Draco! What the hell…"

"Shut up, woman," he growled hungrily, and with no further time wasted he pushed her against the back wall and kissed her. After a moment of indignity, Astoria cast aside her pride and resolve and became fixated in wrapping her arms around his neck. She moaned and gasped and he continued to force her against the wall, pinning her arms by her head firmly with one of his hands as he took liberties exploring her body freely with the other. His lips alternated claiming her neck and mouth, breathing ravenously as he kissed and tasted her again. Moans and whimpers escaped her as she struggled against his hold, crying for more and needing to touch him herself.

"Draco," she pleaded, finally able to choke out the word between gasps. His hold on her was released after this panted request, and she threw herself on him with a ferocious energy. One of her hands immediately dipped into his trousers, giving him one teasing stroke as she yanked out his dress shirt. He hissed at the sudden contact, pulling at her waist for more as she skillfully unbuttoned his shirt. She quickly slid the garment off, marveling at the definition of his arms and stomach as she caressed them indulgently.

Draco bunched up her thick, inky hair in his hands, yanking on it slightly as he continued to kiss her. He pulled away slightly, allowing her space to continue exploring out his chest. Her hands rubbed down his abs slowly, leaving tantalizing strokes just above his trousers. After a few moments of this she plunged her hand down quickly, eager to feel the smooth hot skin of his prick. Draco moaned and thrust eagerly into her palm, encouraging her further.

A sudden surge of heat engulfed him after a combination of strokes and bites to his neck caused a rush to fall down his spine. He rose to his full height, crushing her into his chest as he moved them to the middle of the room. Cloaks now hung all around them, sneaking their way in between them and adding odd and foreign scents to their excursion.

He would have none of that.

With an angry grunt he yanked down the bar holding up the cloaks, causing them all to tumble to the floor. His hands immediately returned to her body, rolling over her dress until they found the zip in the back. A quick tug was all that was needed to cause the dress to pool at the floor, leaving her completely exposed in front of him. His hands roamed lightly down her sides, causing her to shiver as his thumbs rolled over her breasts, caressed her taut stomach, and swirled through her hips.

Draco's breathing quickened, and with a desperate gasp he scooped her up into his arms gently. Astoria released only a small intake of surprise, but happily caught his lips as he bent his neck to kiss her. For a moment she could feel him smiling as he rested his head against hers, burying his face into her long hair. Then, very slowly, he knelt to the ground, gently lying her down atop the coats as he leaned over her.

The room was pitch black and even with diluted eyes Astoria could hardly make out the shapes of the cloaks that surrounded her. Perhaps it was the loss of one of her senses that heightened the others. Most likely it had to do with no man ever being able to do to her what Draco did. All she really did know was she had never in her life experienced such a sensual moment as when Draco began inspecting her.

The fact that he could not see only encouraged his search. He slowly scaled down her body, tenderly stroking and kissing her as his hands and face explored her. He started at her neck, deeply inhaling her scent as he licked and nipped at her fragile nape. His hands preceded him, falling down her chest until gently landing on her breast. Astoria moaned and shook in pleasure as he kneaded them. He tenderly plucked at their pert ends, causing her nipples to harden instantly.

A deep and guttural sound came from deep within him as his head came to join his hands. She squirmed in helpless delight as his lips brushed against her breast. Draco placed his hand on her shoulder, gently steading her as he worked to rememorize her body. An instant calm washed over her as she told herself to relax, allowing only the occasional shudder and whimper to interfere. Soon the hand that lay on her shoulder slowly crept downward, stroking her curvy side and pausing on her pronounced hipbone. Another animalistic growl was emitted as Draco's attention switched to this part of her. He placed one last kiss on her breast before trailing down to his hand. Astoria's fingers immediately laced themselves into his silky hair, clenching with every sudden contact of his lips upon her skin.

"Azzy," he muttered, tracing light patterns on her hips and thighs as he drew tantalizingly close to her center. Astoria could only respond with a moan, one which ended in a gasp as his fingers danced along her clit. Draco spread her legs apart further, lightly caressing the area between her thighs. Her cunt was already dripping wet, and he wasted no time diving into her slick, hot folds. Astoria cried out as he began pumping his two fingers into her; slowly at first, but he quickly increased his speed. For the first time Draco wished there was some light in the room, craving to see her face as she moaned and bucked into him. He wanted to see the ecstasy and desire on her face, especially when the sudden transition would occur when his fingers were no longer enough. His cock was already stiff, twitching in its clothed confine as it impatiently waited to slide into her.

Luckily he needn't wait very long. In a swift movement Astoria sat up, pushing Draco back so he leaned against the wall. Her hands quickly flew to his belt as she settled on her knees. Draco rose to his feet as she yanked off his trousers, kicking his nicest slacks to join the wrinkled pile of dress cloaks. He grinned wickedly as he remembered her penchant for directness an instant before she slid his cock passed her lips. His fingers entangled themselves in her hair, moaning as she went at him wildly. In mere moments his member was soaked. He couldn't help but thrust into her as her mouth stretched tight around him. He hissed as she slowly slid him out, only to plunge him under her tongue. The moist, lush sensation was almost too much for him to take. It had been long enough since he had fucked anyone; he wouldn't waste another second not fucking her.

He let go of her hair and placed his hands under her arms, motioning for her to stand. The moment she found her feet he walked them back against the wall. Without further direction Astoria wrapped her arms around his neck, jumping so her legs could do the same around his waist. One foot shot out to brace some of her weight against another wall, making the load lighter and the access easier. With that final adjustment Draco was able to grab his cock and easily slide inside of her.

Both moaned out with no restraint. Draco's soft and caressing attitude immediately vanished as the drive to enter her again and again consumed him. Each thrust sent him over the edge, losing himself completely as she clinched tight around him. His mind was wiped and replaced with the single desire to never stop thrusting, and simply spend the rest of his life inside her; her hair, warmth and scent monopolizing all his time and senses.

Unfortunately he knew that was impossible. In fact, he was quite certain he wouldn't last past a few more minutes.

Astoria had no reservations about this. The pleasure washing tremors in her lower abdomen had been pulsing through her before he had even gotten close to her cunt. The moment he had slid into her she felt the pressure begin to build, each thrust causing it to strengthen. And then, then he forced his hand between them, placing tight circles around her clit as he continued his thrusts.

She lost it.

She moaned out his name, her foot slipping from the wall as she started collapsing from pleasure. Draco stumbled slightly at this shift in weight but gracefully fell to his knees. Astoria threw herself back on the ground, gasping as Draco kept the beat despite the fall. His body lay on top of hers, fully embracing her as he gave his final thrusts. He cursed into her neck, his whole body shuddering as he joined her in release.

"I love you, Azzy," he gasped as he collapsed on top of her, burying his face in her course and clean smelling hair. Astoria's arms snaked around his back to pull him in a crushing embrace. Her eyes closed and her heart beat wildly as he softly kissed her neck.

An inexplicable pang of sadness hit her as he slowly withdrew and sat them up against the wall with her half sitting in his lap. As he mindlessly stroked her hair she felt the melancholy and fear grow, warring with the sublime happiness she felt to be back in this position. She hated this feeling, and did her best to deflect it aloofly.

"I knew you'd break down and say it first," she scoffed, her laugh hitching as she hurled an affectionate insult.

"If memory serves, my dear, it was you who said it first. Months ago at your parents' house. _Lumos."_

After finding his wand he brought about the light, craving to see both the body he had ravished and her face upon realization.

"I most certainly…oh…I guess I did."

Though her face did hold his expected look of guilty indignation, he also recognized a flash of something else.

Hesitance.

And Draco knew, despite her unstable temper and brash nature, that this look was the most dangerous of all.

"And you still feel that way, Astoria?" he asked steadily, taking her hand in his and gently rubbing her silver band. Astoria could not bring herself to look at him, fear and panic overwhelming her.

"Astoria," he repeated solidly, a strange mix of severity and kindness mixed in his tone. Her head remained cast aside, her hair shielding her face.

"Yes," she finally whispered hoarsely. "I do."

Draco let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, relief washing over him as he understood what was happening.

"And how, exactly, does that make you feel?" he asked warmly, brushing her hair away from her face.

"Terrified," she replied quickly, finally turning to reveal her red eyes filled with tears.

"I'm just… I care about you so much and I really can't believe this is happening. You've been so patient and wonderful and you're what I want more than anything. That's why I know I'll just do something to fuck it all up. I'll piss you off until you leave, and if that doesn't work I'll probably run…"

"Astoria, look at me," he commanded, grasping her face so she had no other option. As she had been speaking more and more tears had spilled down her cheeks, her voice growing weak in anxiety. Draco however held a countenance of upmost calm and assurance.

"We've been through a lot, Azzy. In some people's eyes maybe too much to be able to get back together. I can see how it could look like it would be impossible, that we'd never work through whatever fucked up issues we have. And I don't know how we'll do it."

Astoria let out a silent sob at this, her head turning to escape. Draco's grasp held firmly.

"But what I do know, Astoria Anathema, is that I don't like my life without you in it. I can't fucking stand it. I mourned for you every single day. And if I had lived for another 150 years without you I know it wouldn't be any different. We're going to fight. We'll yell and say hurtful, awful things to each other and wish for a few moments that we had never met. But that will be fleeting. We'll eventually calm down and admit that life without the other is no life at all. I know I will never forget the pain and misery I have felt these past two years without you, and I know that that pain will be forever seared inside my memory, reminding me of what will happen if I ever let you go. And I believe you, my dear, feel the same way. But, if you are worried about slipping and running off, know this. If you ever decided to run off again you can bet your perfectly sculpted arse that I will hunt you down and pester you until you come home again."

Astoria let out a soft laugh, the pain and fear melting at his sincere words and passionately loving gaze.

"Promise?" she asked, rubbing her face against his cheek in ecstasy.

"You bet your perfectly sculpted arse I do," he replied, pulling her in closer. Astoria let out another laugh, the last of her paralyzing reserve vanishing as he stroked her hair. Now she only felt what she knew she should; joy, excitement, passion…

…and one more thing…

"I love you, Draco Malfoy," she stated clearly, looking deeply into his steal grey eyes.

"I know," he replied with a smirk, his eyebrow cocking ostentatiously.

"You arse..!"

Her indignant outrage was silence by his lips claiming hers madly. In an instant he pulled them to their feet, shoving her dress into her hands after pulling away.

"Here, put this on so I can take you home and rip it off you," he commanded, grinning as he quickly dressed himself.

"Pfft, you'll be lucky if…"

But whatever imaginative insult she was about to through at her fiancée was silenced at the opening of a door. Half naked Draco and Astoria were then greeted by the perplexed look of a servant with a handful of tickets. Behind him stood a dozen or more couple all ready to claim their cloaks.

"What the hell…?" the servant stuttered, opening the door for all to see.

"You really need to organize your cloaks better!" Astoria scolded, quickly picking up two cloaks off the floor. Though her dress was on it was far from zipped up, and her decision not to wear knickers was suddenly not as cleaver an idea as it had been. However she continued to stare menacingly at the poor servant as if the whole ordeal was his fault.

"The state of this closet is abhorrent! Just look at everyone's things. You'll be lucky if you work again! Come on Draco!"

Astoria grabbed his hand, yanking him passed the door and the gawking spectators, storming out in perfect indignation.

"This isn't my cloak," Draco muttered as they walked out.

"Shut up!" she hissed as they spilled out onto the patio, rushing quickly out the door.

"But I really liked that cloak," he sulked, snorting righteously.

"Then go back in and get it!" she yelled. "I was just trying to leave before they noticed that your dick was hanging out, but by all means go back inside and get your fucking cloak! I'm sure whoever's cloak you took will just love the cum stains accentuating the collar!"

"Your breasts get really perky when you're irritated," Draco replied simply, ogling without reservation.

"Go to hell!" she demanded, storming off in a huff. "And forget everything I've just said in the last hour. You're an idiot who just pisses me off."

Draco grabbed her before she could get out her wand to leave, his arm snaked around her waist as his free hand caressed her backside.

"Mmmm, perfectly sculpted," he moaned, pulling her in close as he continued to touch her indulgently.

"Life is going to piss me off until I die," she muttered, sighing as she relented her smile and leaned into him.

"At least you'll get in some really great fucks until then," Draco countered. Astoria laughed, turning around quickly to embrace him. Draco grinned, starting a running tally of the countless battles that would take place with marrying this woman, and congratulating himself on winning the first.

Astoria grinned for an entirely different reason, smirking silently as she lulled her future husband into a false sense of security. If she was going to give up her name, independence and heart to this man, she would make damn sure he knew who was boss in the most creative way possible.

Who needs romance in a marriage when you can have constant, passion-filled revenge?


	31. My Dirty Little Secret

My Dirty Little Secret

Picking sides was never something Draco was very good at. Sides were something that through his life had been inherent. He was a Malfoy, after all, and alliances had been made centuries before his birth. All he ever had to do was look back on his lineage and continue through in their footsteps honorably to get him through conflict.

But he had gone and changed all of that. He had forged new trails, new directions for himself, bringing about a prideful independence and innovation that separated him from his ancestors. And for the most part this had been a good thing. With it he was able to secure what he wanted, when he wanted it, which when boiled down past dogma and semantics was what being a Malfoy was all about.

However at this particular moment Draco found himself wishing he had someone to tell him what to do. He craved to know the right path to take to bring about success, or at least have something to blame if he failed. As he stood in the middle of the room and looked around he felt a hesitant fear consume him as he tittered on the edge of choice, his brain wracked as he tried to make the most important decision for his future life.

Did he go stand with his mother or his fiancée?

"Bloody engagement party," he muttered under his breath, taking a swig of his Firewhiskey.

He stood in the middle of the Greengrasses' great room, surrounded by people he knew and felt certain didn't give a damn about his impending nuptials. On one side he saw his parents, half-smiling though standing rigidly, as though wishing to blend in with the wallpaper. His mother was anyhow. His father seemed much more relaxed, though that had a lot to do with the Mood Stabilizing potion he had taken to drinking since the engagement went public, mixed with an endless supply of booze.

Draco could at least appreciate the effort his father was making not to fly off the handle at his only son marrying a closet Mixed Blood. Though surprised to see Astoria back in his son's life, Lucius made good on his promise to accept the girl. However his particular method of coping made his father a bit out of touch, and was one of many things that made Narcissa purse her lips the way she did.

Narcissa had been thrilled to have her son back after Lucius had made amends, only to receive a cold and bitter welcome when Draco finally visited the Manor. For months she watched her beloved son work himself to death as he silently pinned for that wretched troublemaking Greengrass girl. Then without warning her son was almost nowhere to be seen, spending every possible moment overseas in New York. Narcissa accepted this as part of his business, and was proud of her son despite how much she missed him. Now however she learned that he had been humiliating himself chasing after the same, horrid girl who had damaged him in the first place, who had caused a rift in their already fragile family without remorse, and whose very existence threatened her way of life.

But still she stood, supporting her son the same way she always supported her husband, selflessly and patiently, despite knowing he was making a huge mistake and feeling as though his future bride would never be the dutiful wife he deserved.

Draco saw his mother and felt all the things she thought. He knew of her displeasure and disapproval and of her quiet suffering. Without a word from her he felt a bit ashamed of what he was putting her through, and felt an instant pull to go comfort her, especially as her husband was clouded in his own drug induced haze.

But before he could walk over there he felt tugged by a separate loyalty. Across the room he saw Astoria, standing like a statue as her mother and a gaggle of older women surrounded her. They stroked her hair and waist as they cackled happily about wedding dresses, color swatches and, though he very much hoped he'd misheard, how adorable a baby would look with his silky blonde hair and her beautiful green eyes.

Even from across the room he could see her "beautiful" green eyes narrow deadly as one of her great aunts tugged on her ankles to inspect her feet. During the past few months she and Draco had worked tirelessly on their relationship. They once again strived to trust each other, at first hesitantly placing it on a ledge as they both worried the other would bolt, but as time passed it became more genuine, more concrete. Each day it became easier until once again being with each other was a natural as breathing. They confided in each other about their businesses and lives. And, for the first time ever, they both began to discuss their future together. They had been taking it slow, staying away from painful topics such as children, but still they talked. She agreed to move her business back to England and be represented by his investment firm. They had been looking for places to build a home after they were married and they were in the processes of managing their finances together.

Life after the wedding did not seem to faze Astoria. It was the wedding itself that did it. The traditions and institution of it all represented everything she had ever hated about their society. It was all he could do to deter her from elopement. Not that he was against it; in fact he knew in the short run it would be easier. But he was firm on them keeping their families together and doing it the proper way. Eventually she agreed, though she made it clear she needed help getting through such events without killing anyone. He had promised her that he would be there for her to bear through the hardships, and to lend her a hand to squeeze in lieu of someone's neck.

Now was definitely a time where he knew she needed him. He was intent on making the whole engagement process as painless as possible for her. He wanted her happy, but also he still harbored an old fear that if she became too stressed from the plans and he was nowhere in sight she might escape and never come back. He was almost entirely certain they were past that point, but at the same time he didn't want to test anything.

So there he stood, swaying back and forth between the needs of the two women who meant the world to him, who made up different worlds for him, lost in what to do.

"I can't believe you're just standing here," a nasally voice spat from behind him.

Draco cringed, exhaling slowly as he turned to the _last_ woman in his life he wanted to speak to, now or ever.

"What the hell do you want, Pansy?" he sneered quietly.

"To wish you congratulations, Cousin," she replied in near hysterics. "You hear that? We're going to be cousins because you want to marry Astoria!"

"I guess technically…"

"Cousins! Family! We're going to be family!" she cried, "just like I predicted Third Year, because you're going to marry my slaggy, terrible, bitch of a cousin…"

"You knock it off right now," Draco growled threateningly. "This is my engagement party and you will not ruin it for me!"

"I'm way past ruining it, _Cousin_," Pansy spat bitterly. "You should hear the talk going on at this place. Whispers of how Draco has done himself in by choosing to marry an imposture. How millennia of careful Pureblood breeding is being discarded for some floozy who fucks men in back alley ways. No wonder your mother is too ashamed to talk to anyone!"

"For Merlin's sake Pansy, do the world a favor and shut the fuck up! Find someone who actually wants to talk to you, or at the very least actually wants to shag you. And let me assure you that I fall in neither of those categories."

Draco quickly walked away before she could respond, intent on keeping his anger at bay. Though he hated to admit it he realized Pansy was right about something. People _**were**_ talking. And though such things no longer bothered him he could _**not**_allow his family to be disgraced in such a way. Past or future.

His mind now settled on a course of action he felt his hesitance immediately melt into hard determination. Without a further thought he breached the group of women surrounding Astoria. His timing, it seemed, was impeccable, as Astoria's second cousin seemed in great danger of having her wrist snapped as she reached out to inspect Astoria's engagement ring for authenticity.

"Ladies, would you mind if I borrowed my fiancée?" he asked with a charming smile, intercepting Astoria's attack with a smooth sliding of his hand.

"Oh Draco, how nice of you to join us!" Phoebe Greengrass delighted with a smile. "Look at how handsome he is! Isn't he just to die for? A mother could not ask for a more handsome son-in-law…no offense, Daphne dear."

"None taken," Daphne responded coolly. "My wedding was two months ago. It's Astoria's turn now."

Draco was able to usher Astoria safely away from her relatives as they continued to talk wedding plans without the hassle of an opposing bride.

"Did my sister just smirk at me?" Astoria demanded in disbelief, trying to turn back as he led her away.

"I'm sure she only did so in jest," Draco answered, breathing in relief to have her alone for a moment.

"I'm going to murder someone tonight," Astoria stated fiercely. "You cannot believe the shite they've been babbling about! Dates, and china patterns and bakers! Honeymoon spots, how I'm going to do my hair, how I _must_ wear my great aunt Belinda's wedding dress even though she weighs three hundred pounds…"

"Astoria…" Draco sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, but the best and most popular topic is how I really can't be planning to work on my silly potions after I'm married because I'll be far too busy taking care of you to do any of that. Now explain to me, do you plan on becoming some sort of invalid after our honeymoon, because if so we seriously…"

"Azzy!" he exclaimed, grabbing her arms softly and shaking her into focus. "Calm down. You just need to breathe."

"Yes. I need to breathe. I need to breathe in about a thousand cigarettes before I wipeout my entire family. I need a Charm that gives me two more hands and another mouth so I can smoke nonstop and create a heinous smelling cloud barrier between myself and anyone I share or pretend to share a DNA sequence with!"

"I thought you were quitting," he reminded, quickly deflecting her rant on to a new topic. "Has the potion not been working? What about the gum, have you been chewing the gum?"

"Yes I've been chewing the gum! I ate the whole ruddy pack getting ready tonight. Don't patronize me!" she scolded, though she started to visibly calm down.

"Azzy, look. The night is almost over. Soon all of your relatives will go away and you won't have to see them until the wedding, and by then all will be planned so they won't be able to try and change anything. Plus there will be presents. Lots of them. And if they all suck you have my permission to return all of them and buy a shoe store."

"I do like shoes," she muttered, fighting off a relenting grin.

"I know you do. And you can have all the insensible heels you want, but you just have to make it through the night. Okay?" he asked, rubbing her arm affectionately.

"Fine! I'll fake a smile and refrain from massacres," she spat, folding her arms in mock irritation.

"Marvelous," he replied, kissing her gently on the cheek. "Now, now that that's settled I need you to go and make nice with my mother."

"WHAT?" Astoria demanded, taking a step back from her soon-to-be husband as though re-judging his sanity. "I can barely tolerate my own mother! Why the hell would I want to talk to yours?"

"Because she is _**my**_mother, and your future mother-in-law," Draco stated firmly.

"Not by choice," she muttered under her breath.

"Yes by choice," Draco reminded her, calmly standing his ground. "We've agreed to get married, and there is a lot I have done to my life to make sure that has happened. And I don't regret any of it, nor am I holding it over your head, but it has affected my family life. I really want my parents to understand why I've done all this. It means a lot to me that you all get along, and I know it would mean a lot to them if you approached them first."

Astoria opened her mouth to argue, an angry look splashed across her face. But then she hesitated, swallowing her displeasure as she looked at the earnestness in Draco's eyes.

"Your parents don't like me," she finally stated with an edge of a whine. "They blame me for make you go against them, ruining your Pureblood line and making you angsty for a few months."

"Well, you have done all that," Draco replied with a smile.

"I know!" she defended back quickly. "And what the hell do you want me to say to them? 'Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, sorry for breaking all of your traditions and killing off all the dreams you had for your son. Have you tried the scones?'".

"You could say that," he grinned. "Or just go over there and tell my mother you like her dress."

"Do I have to…?" she began to ask, stopping herself in the question. Astoria than gave a stomp, releasing the last of her tantrum before giving a sigh.

"It's important to you," she stated out loud. "And I'll do anything that's important to you."

"Thank you," he replied warmly. "I love you."

"Whatever," she replied, flashing him a scowl before marching to the other side of the room to where Draco's parents stood. Draco smiled a moment, watching her walk purposely towards them with a warm feeling, when it suddenly dawned on him that he should go run interference. Unfortunately he was momentarily detained when a swarm of well-wishers came to snidely congratulate him on his engagement. By the time he got away he was able to see Astoria just approaching his parents, her own mother right behind her.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, knowing no good could come of the three women conversing at once. He charged through the crowd as quickly as he could, contemplating Apperating to the spot just to get there in time. However when he got close enough he felt certain that even magic could not penetrate the icy barrier that surrounded the three women when they all made eye contact with each other. Draco found himself glued to the spot, unable to move lest a sudden movement cause an explosion.

"I'm going to go grab you ladies something to drink," Lucius Malfoy stated quickly, walking away as fast as he could turn. None of the women seemed to register that remark, too busy locked in to a cold, three-way stare.

"I like your dress, Narcissa," Astoria stated stoically, her voice flat as she forced out her rehearsed attempt at small talk. Draco closed his eyes and shook his head.

"Thank you, dear," Narcissa replied just as curtly. "I purchased it at a boutique. I'd recommend it to you, but the wear there is a little more…modest than the clothing I've seen you lean towards."

"Just what are you trying to insinuate?" Phoebe cut in defensively, adding the first bite of emotion to the otherwise gelid conversation.

"Nothing, mother, she was just being polite," Astoria muttered, though she seemed not to believe her own words.

"Of course I was. I was only being considerate of the girl's choices in fashion. Clearly we have a difference of opinion in what constitutes style…" Narcissa drew out slyly.

"My daughter has a fine sense of style," Phoebe defended menacingly. "Just because she doesn't wear the prudish dresses that were fashionable in _**your**_day…"

"Oh believe me, no one here thinks of the Greengrass girls as very prude," Narcissa remarked.

"Don't say such bitter things, just because I let my child be free instead of keeping them hostage in their dungeon of a home…"

"Let me be free? I ran away if you recall! After I burnt all those horrific old fashion doll dresses you forced me into!" Astoria cut in, rounding on her mother fiercely.

"Of course she forced you into them," Narcissa added. "She was trying to make up for her mistakes…"

"Don't you talk to my mother like that!" Astoria shrieked, turning on Mrs. Malfoy just as quickly as she had her own mother.

"Drinks, ladies?"

As though appearing out of nowhere Draco's father's words broke through the circle, followed by a charmed tray that floated in between the heaving women. All three snatched a drink and immediately dismissed the tray and the man who sent it to them in order to continue with their bickering. Draco had a fading hope that his father would do something to stop the fight, but Lucius merely smiled and stepped back politely as though amused by the situation. Draco knew he had to do something to stop the argument before something really out of hand was said. In six months this bickering group of women would consist of his mother, his wife and his mother-in-law, and he needed at least two of those three to get along if he hoped to retain any piece of his sanity. Usually he could count on his mother to be civil, but he realized the depths of her displeasure at the situation as she continued to passively fight with the two Greengrasses. Though he did not know Phoebe personally all that well he knew enough not to believe she would back down for her daughter's prosperity. In fact he had never seen the woman so passionate and animated then when she was defending herself. It was clear that the apple had not fallen far from the tree where pride and insanity was concerned. Draco was getting ready to reach for his wand to cast a deflective spell for when the inevitable catfight came to pass, when suddenly the unthinkable happened.

Astoria took a drink from her glass, paused for a moment as a serene look crossed her face, stepped between the two fighting mothers and turned to Narcissa.

"I think I did this all wrong," Astoria admitted with an unusually bright smile. "When I came over here I actually meant to ask, well it's all so embarrassing now and I hope I don't offend you Mother by saying this, but I was wondering if perhaps you could give me some tips or even help out with the wedding plans, Mrs. Malfoy."

Draco's jaw nearly fell out of his head at hearing this. Phoebe as well seemed just as shocked as she refrained from returning to the argument due to being startled silent. No one, however, seemed more surprised than Narcissa. Her eyes widened greatly and she even had to take a step back before responding.

"You…you what?" Narcissa asked in disbelief.

"I would like you to help out planning the wedding," Astoria repeated cheerfully. "When Daphne was planning her wedding the planner had a photo album with pictures of yours. The lady raved about how it was one of the classiest, most beautiful weddings she had ever thrown and that you had timeless taste. It would really mean a lot to me and Draco if you helped. I'm afraid I'm a bit dreadful at these kinds of things."

Narcissa again stumbled back, totally caught off guard by the change in tactic the young girl was eliciting. She took a big gulp of her champagne before speaking; downing it as though the answers to her questions resided at the bottom of her flute.

And apparently they were, for when she resurfaced for air she responded with her own surprise.

"Nothing would make me happier, love," Narcissa responded joyfully. Astoria responded with a girlish squeal, a noise Draco had to this point figured was impossible for the raspy woman to make, and garnished the sound with an excited jump that ended…in a hug. With his mother. Who reciprocated.

"But of course when it comes to finding a great dress you must ask your mother," Narcissa insisted as the two pulled apart. "Acacia and I raved for weeks over how beautiful your wedding gown was, Phoebe. You had that immaculate figure! And still do I might add. Astoria, be grateful you've inherited your mother's good genes!"

"I still can't believe my baby is going to be a bride!" Phoebe proclaimed through a happy sob, all but throwing her empty glass at Draco as she swooped in to hug her daughter. "I always knew my little girl would marry a prince!"

The three of them then engaged in a group hug, the two older women stroking Astoria's face and hair as they all laughed and cried animatedly.

Draco felt certain he had this all wrong. Someone must have slipped a Portkey in his pocket when he wasn't looking that had transported him to some parallel universe where these three impossible women all got along. He certainly felt the strange pulling in his stomach like a hook had jerked him away. Surely this wasn't happening.

A sudden tap on his shoulder caused Draco to be pulled out of his thoughts and startled out of his skin. He jumped as he turned to face his gentle attacker.

"Steady son," Helios Greengrass stated. "I would like a word with you. You busy? Good, follow me."

And with that the large man turned and started off to his office. A Confunded Draco could once again only stare as he retreated, completely blown at the strange turn of events. Eventually it clicked that he should follow and he slowly walked after the man to the back of the house.

He should have known this moment would come, though he hadn't prepared for it. Even if he wasn't biologically Astoria's father Helios had still raised her, still had legal rights over her. Every father had to have "the talk" with the man marrying their daughter. Draco sulked. The last thing he needed at the moment was threats against his life if he ever hurt Astoria or be given a lecture on how to properly treat one's wife from a man who hardly talked to his own.

By the time Draco made it to the office the man was already sitting at his desk. The instant he walked in the door shut ominously behind him. Helios at first said nothing, taking the time to pour himself and Draco a glass of whiskey.

"Look, sir, Mr. Greengrass, I don't know if you saw what was going on out there, but I really should go back," Draco urged.

"I'm sure the women can survive without you standing as though petrified over them," Helios replied with a grunt.

"I…I know," Draco admitted, realizing just how much damage he had let occur while doing nothing to stop it. "But all the same they should really not be left to their own devises. I can assure you, sir, I have nothing but honorable intentions for Astoria, and would never do anything to hurt…"

Draco was cut off in his speech by the sound of Helios laughing.

"My dear boy, do you think I dragged you in here for some fatherly speech on how to treat my daughter?" Helios asked, continuing his boisterous chuckle. "You and I both know Astoria is her own woman. Free to make and unmake any decision as she pleases. If she chose to marry you, you must be good enough. And there is no point in me making any sort of threat against you, for if you ever hurt Astoria you and I both know she will go after you a 100 times harder than I ever could."

Helios continued to laugh and shake his head as he passed Draco the whiskey.

"Oh, err, right," Draco conceded, taking a swig of his drink as he sat down. "So this isn't about Astoria?"

"No, this is about business," Helios stated, finally taking a straight face. "My business to be exact."

"Oh," Draco replied with relief, ecstatic to speak about a much more comfortable subject.

"As you might have heard I am quite old and one day do intend to die," Helios stated matter-of-factly.

"Err…" Draco answered, not quite sure what to say to this.

"Hopefully I will retire before I meet my demise, but that would also mean spending more time at home with Phoebe and I would prefer to die peacefully. Now, as you also may have noticed I have no sons."

"Yes…" Draco replied slowly, at least able to say so with some certainty.

"Now though my business has been passed down from father to son for centuries, it would not have wounded my pride to pass along my family's work to one of the girls. Women's lib and all that, seems to be something that plans on sticking."

"Yes…" Draco repeated, just as slowly as his first.

"Though Daphne is my oldest and therefore the main heir, she is clueless when it comes to business. No savvy for the game at all. Inherited too much of her mother's silliness."

"Err…"

"Astoria however is very bright. A real ball-buster. Perfect really. But she has never claimed an interest and has gone off to pursue her own goals."

"Yes…"

"So that has left me in a bit of a spot you see," Helios stated directly. "Legally it makes the most sense to pass the company on to Goyle. He is Daphne's husband and will keep it in the family. But he too is stupid, slow, and is a follower at best. Nothing in him shows any ability for leadership."

"Well Goyle…"

"I therefore have decided to give split ownership of my company. Half to my oafish son-in-law, and half to you, with Daphne and Astoria signed on as honorary board members."

"What?" Draco stated, taken aback.

"You, Draco, are smart. A real businessman. With you I know my company is safe," Helios said.

"Helios, I'm flattered, really I am, but I have my own business…"

"Of course you do. I may be old but I am not dead yet," Helios responded impatiently. "Goyle will be placed as the figure head. I'll have him trained on what to do and say, making sure small words are used. I need you however to come in when real decisions need to be made. Just to keep him from running the business into the ground. I figure you and Astoria will have at least one competent child who can take up the mantel when they're old enough. You'd better have two if you plan on having one take after you when you get old."

"Astoria and I haven't really discussed…"

"You do realize son, that I have just made you an incredibly rich man. Not that you weren't on your way to being one already…"

"Yes sir, but I need…"

"Family is important, son," Helios stated firmly. "It can sometimes be the only thing you can really depend on. No matter what one says or does family always follows you. You are now a part of this family. You will be the head of the family in not too long, and your successes and failures are the family's. Do you understand?"

"I do, sir, yes," Draco responded truthfully. "If I was raised for one thing it was that I would be placed with that responsibility."

Helios looked thoroughly at his future son-in-law and nodded curtly, accepting Draco's answer and feeling secure about his decision.

"Good, I know you will not let the family down." Helios then stood and held out his hand to shake. Draco smiled and responded back, feeling both anxious and ready for the responsibility that lay before him. He had a confident smile on his face as he followed Helios out of the room, and felt ready to conquer anything that came to him.

"You do realize, however, if anything does ever happen between you and Astoria…say you stray or make her unhappy, you will not only lose my company but most likely yours as well after the legal battle that will inevitably ensue. I have very good lawyers."

Draco stopped in his tracks as they made their way back to the party, giving the perfunctory man a long sideways glance.

"Was that a fatherly, protective threat?" Draco inquired with a smile.

"Just good business advice from one man to another," Helios deflected, though his own smile crept across his face.

This feel-good moment was short lived when Draco once again remembered he had left Astoria alone with their mothers. He immediately sharpened his guard and walked swiftly over to where they all stood.

Strangely, _**miraculously, **_all seemed fine. The three stood next to each other as they conversed with other women, laughing as they complimented one another in an all-round affectionate manner. Draco kept a comfortable distance from the group, completely at a loss at the uncharacteristic mood change in the fierce women.

"They all seem to be having a nice time, don't they?" his father asked, joining his son and handing the nearby Helios a drink.

"What the hell is going on?" Draco inquired, shaking his head in disbelief. "It's like they've all lost their minds and gone…normal!"

"A little intervention may have been staged on behalf of prosperity," Lucius replied with a grin, taking a small vial out of his robes and shaking it gently. Draco immediately recognized the vial as the one that held his father's Mood Altering potion.

"You drugged our wives?" Draco asked incredulously. "You can't do that!"

Lucius and Helios both looked at Draco strangely, before catching each other's glance and bursting out in hearty laughter.

"I had forgotten what it was like to be young and idealistic!" Helios stated between gasps.

"It is rather cute," Lucius agreed, slapping the bottle into his son's hand. "Trust me, there are going to be times where you'll need this. It keeps your marriage healthy."

"Healthy?" Draco demanded in quiet disbelieve. The fathers once again laughed at the young man, shaking their heads as they walked to the bar.

"You can't do that!" Helios mocked in good humor, causing Lucius to double over.

Draco felt completely at a loss. His mother and fiancée were drugged and his father and future in-law were laughing at his expense. Yet…yet everyone seemed happy. Though all under some kind of influence his family was getting along in front of everyone he knew. Which, he supposed, was more than he could ask for.

Slipping the potion in his pocket, Draco shook his head in acceptance and went to go stand next to Astoria.

"Hi, honey!" she beamed, giving him a hug before standing next to him. Draco grinned as he placed an arm around her waist, content to just enjoy the pleasant evening while he could.

"I can't fucking believe this!"

All civil conversation in the room stopped as everyone turned to face to the direction of the frantic voice. Like a parting sea the crowd disbanded as an enraged and stumbling Pansy marched toward them.

"How can you all just fucking be standing there laughing!" she demanded, staring right at Narcissa and the recently joined Lucius.

"Pansy, what has gotten into you?" Narcissa asked, looking at the girl in a disapproving manner.

"What has gotten into me? WHAT HAS GOTTEN IN TO ME? What the hell has gotten into you?" she screamed back. "How can you possibly be okay with Draco marrying this abomination?"

"Pansy, you're drunk!" Phoebe proclaimed, stepping out and placing her hands formidably on her hips. "Go upstairs and lie down this instant!"

"Shut up, you whore!"

The whole room let out a collective gasp at her proclamation.

"That is quite enough, Pansy," Helios stated, walking in front of her and taking her by the arm.

"Don't defend her! And let me go!" Pansy shrieked hysterically. "Astoria is not your daughter! Phoebe had an affair and everyone knows it! Astoria is a mixed blood little runt and you are all letting the Malfoys run their Pureblood line! She's a sham and is going to destroy all of you!"

The room was deathly quiet, all eyes focused on the Malfoys and Greengrasses as the dirty laundry was aired out. Draco's heart felt as though it were going to pound out of his chest. He gripped tightly to Astoria who too remained silent and ridged, unable to come to her own defense as embarrassment and shock mixed with her altered state. He had no idea what to do, and as the moment crept on he felt like everything he and Astoria had worked so hard for was all about to fall apart.

"I know you wanted to marry Draco," Helios stated softly, "but that does not give you the right to ruin this engagement party with your outrageous lies and accusations."

"But I'm not lying! Everybody knows it's true! She is not your daughter and she is not a Pureblood!"

"Of course she is my daughter!" Helios roared. "You think me so stupid as to raise a child who is not my own? Entitle her to part of my fortune? Give her my name without being certain she was mine?"

"But…but…" Pansy struggled, wobbling back and forth as she tried to combat this information. "But she looks nothing like you!"

"Of course she does!" Helios barked. Then with a grin he looked over at Astoria. "She has my hair."

If it had not been against him that this surprise attack had been launched he would have laughed at the statement. Helios Greengrass had been mostly bald and completely gray for as long as Draco could remember. In fact, due to the quiet whispering in the room that was how everyone seemed to remember him. No one, it seemed, could recall just what his hair had looked like when he had it.

"This is impossible!" Pansy cried, tears rolling down her face as she turned to Lucius and Narcissa.

"Do not look to us for comfort you wretched girl," Lucius said coldly, placing his arm around his wife. "You have offended our future daughter and grandchildren with your slander, and have shamed our family. Do you really think we would allow our son to marry anyone other than a worthy Pureblood?"

"Emphasis on worthy," Narcissa added with a scowl.

Pansy let out a whimper as she realized the room had turned on her. Suddenly she realized her accusations, once shared by the room, now seemed unfounded and ludicrous. The murmurs of disapproval had now shifted from the couple over to her, looks of judgment and distaste shot her way. Pansy stood shaking for a moment before letting out a scream and running towards the door.

Instantly the room burst back into conversation, almost everyone reeling over the scandal that had just occurred. Those closest to the family still had their eyes on them to see how they would react.

"I am so sorry about her," Phoebe apologized to the Malfoys, shaking her head in disgrace. "I am so ashamed to call her my niece."

"There's one in every family," Narcissa cooed, taking Phoebe's arm tenderly. "Two in mine, actually. And they always manage to ruin special occasions."

"Who needs a drink?" Lucius asked cheerfully as the two women walked away chatting amiably.

"I'll take you up on that, Malfoy," Helios responded, following him back to the bar.

Draco and Astoria stood alone, everyone else too busy gossiping to focus on the pair. Which was more than fine for them as they could hardly speak from shock.

"Did that really just happen?" Astoria finally asked, sputtering as she spoke.

"I think so," Draco stated with a grin, realizing what a fortunate turn of events had occurred with his father's potion and Pansy's outburst.

"I feel so…strange," Astoria admitted. "Like a weight has been lifted…and I…holy shit! Did I just ask your mother to help plan the wedding? And say I'd let my mother pick out the dress!"

"That…erm… is possible," Draco replied a little guiltily.

"I think…I think I'm going to be sick," Astoria proclaimed, swaying slightly. Draco caught and steadied her, shaking her gently as she began to turn a shade of green.

"How about we get you home?" he asked, containing a grin over how his Astoria **_would_** have a bad reaction to a potion meant to make you pleasant.

Without worrying to say goodbye they slipped out unnoticed, walking arm in arm as they made it through the grounds.

As Astoria groaned and wobbled pitifully, Draco could not help but reflect over all that had just happened. Though his parents had both been altered under a Mood Potion and despite the fact that Astoria was already regretting the things she had said, he could not help but think that progress had been made. His parents had stood up for them in front of their entire society, making a clear statement that they approved of the match despite the scandal surrounding his intended. And though he would have been prepared to give a big "fuck you" to whoever challenged him against going against tradition, he had to admit that continuing to pretend Astoria was a Pureblood made life a lot easier. He could maintain his station and the ways he had grown up with. He may have no longer cared about this particular aspect of his life but he could see the benefits of being at the top of the Pureblood pyramid for his family. If his parents had to watch the end of their Pureblood line at least they could at least regain their elevated station they had held before the war. Maybe that would make a grandchild easier to accept, easier to cherish despite it having a distant Muggle relative.

Draco also couldn't help but think how fiscally lucrative his marriage with Astoria had now become. He was now the head of a fast rising company, with extreme personal influence in another. Greengrass Trading was unquestionably the best, and often only way to move anything of importance around. Coupled with the fortune Astoria earned from her inventions the latest generation of Malfoys would be very rich indeed.

And it was at that moment it hit him, causing him (and by default an unawares Astoria) to stumble as the realization set in. He had done it. He had gone after what he wanted and had accomplished it, surpassing even his wildest dreams. His family was once again back on top, their fortune larger than ever, and he would get to be in charge. All his hard work, his suffering, his humiliation and determinism, all had paid off. His dreams had come true.

Yet something didn't feel quite right. The realization of his wealth and power did not bring about the joy and satisfaction he had anticipated. Sure he was excited, but mildly so. His emotions were not hindered from guilt or a struggle of whether or not he deserved such things, in fact he merely saw it as finally getting what was entitled to him. It was something…else.

Draco was torn from his thoughts as Astoria pushed away from him, wildly diving into the bushes as she began to wretch, the upsetting potion finally getting the best of her. As he knelt down beside her, pulling back her hair and offering kind words despite the curses she hurled at him, he was struck with a different theory to explain his lack of elation upon fulfilling his life-long dream.

It was, perhaps, because along the way he had created a new dream. A dream where wealth and influence played their parts, but were only parts to a grander scheme. A scheme that included a future filled with arguments over furniture placement and secretaries, plans to visit parents and become parents. Struggling and thriving in an isolated world with this insane yet wonderful woman by his side.

As Astoria rose to her feet, groaning and clutching her face, Draco couldn't help but feel all the love and excitement he could bare. With her he saw his future, his new dreams and his occasional nightmares. He felt he would never be able to accurately express how much he needed her or how much she meant to him, and he could only thank his stars he had the rest of his life to try.

"I don't feel good," she moaned, wiping her mouth as she stood shakily.

"Don't touch or talk to me until you've showered and brushed your teeth," Draco ordered, giving her a small smirk before he opened up the gate to leave her family's grounds.

"Fuck you," she barked, clutching her stomach as she followed him. "I don't know what the hell happened in there, and frankly I don't care to know. I just want to go home and be grateful this whole thing is over."

"As usual, my dear, you are quite wrong," Draco stated, embracing her with a grin to transport them back to their flat. "It is only the beginning."

"I think I'm going to throw up again," she responded, a little too late for the spinning Draco to stop or think of the consequences.

**(A/N: So I know I am notorious for long waits between updates, especially with the last chapter. I left no explanation with it cause frankly I was frustrated with it. I felt it wasn't quite right, which is part of why it took so long to post. That plus a full time job and a full time boyfriend require oh-so-much attention. However, I now feel like I have this whole schedule thing under control, which is good. Plus I finally got over the hard part of the story and am now just writing little fun things. I have a few more fluff chapters planned, with one more twist at the end. Thank you for sticking with me this long, and hopefully easy quick fluff chapters will be…well…easier and quicker to write. I love this chapter too ) **


	32. Epilogue: Our Dirty Little Secret pt 1

Epilogue: Our Dirty Little Secret, Part One

"You can't do this!" the son yelled, staring into the eerily similar face of his father. "It's my life, I'm of age, you can't tell me what to do!"

"I don't care if you're 18, 81, or 108! I'm your father and I forbid you from seeing that girl again!" the father shouted back, his words echoing throughout the foyer of their home. A home he had gone through hell to build, just to have his only son defy him.

"It's my life! I'm an adult and can be with whomever I chose!" the younger Malfoy retorted, square jaw clenched tightly after his declaration of maturity in hopes he wouldn't sob in adolescent frustration. "I love her and I am going to be with her! And if you don't like it, she and I will just get our own place!"

"If you think I'm going to let you ruin your life for some whore who's robbed you of your wits, then you've…"

"_Stupefy!" _

The words and wand came out before the son could think twice. So enraged was he by his father's slander and prejudices that he had reacted in quick violence. It had been an instinct handy when taking down bullies and Neo-Death Eaters in the Slytherin Common Room. The same could not be said when confronting his father.

The father stumbled back. The curse had hit him square and artfully in the chest, yet some of the hesitance that now crossed his son's face could be seen in the power with which he had delivered his blow, and the man kept his feet. Instead he merely kept his face turned to the floor as though he had been slapped.

"I'm sorry," the son stated quietly after a painful silence filled the manor. "I shouldn't have done that. But I will not have you talking about her that way, nor will I stand here and suffer because of your past and your mistakes!"

"Suffer?" the father asked with an almost cruel laugh. "Suffer? You don't know the meaning of the word! I have spent your entire life slaving to ensure that you were protected…"

"You couldn't protect me from everything, Dad," the son interrupted darkly, and for the first time the father noticed the dark, sunk-in circles surrounding his son's glowing eyes. A crack of despair penetrated the walls of rage and indignation that fortified the father.

"But it was always okay," the son continued, his voice light and compassionate. "Anything anyone ever tried to do to me because I was a Malfoy was always _**their **_problem. I was never ashamed of who I was or who you are, and neither is she. If you just give her a chance…"

"I will never give _**one of them**_ a chance," his father stated with an icy firm voice. "You are not to see her and that is that!"

"You won't even listen…!"

"I am through listening!" the father roared, the torches lining the warm sandstone hall bursting into flame despite the earliness of the hour. "It is you who will listen. Forget whatever it is you think you know and go to your room! That is an order!"

"Is that so?" the son fumed back. "Fuck that! Fuck your orders, fuck this house, and most of all FUCK you!"

"Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy you get back here…"

But it was too late, the door was slammed before the threat could be delivered, leaving Draco alone in the foyer of the house he had built for his ungrateful, foul-mouthed son.

"FUCK!" Draco screamed, fear and panic charging him as he rushed through the halls. "FUCK! I am going to kill that bloody piece of shite! I am going to kick his arse so hard that son of a bitch will wish he had never been born!"

"Watch who you're insulting," Astoria said drolly as her husband burst into the kitchen, focusing solely on the blossoming and rare plant that wriggled on the end of the table.

"Can you believe bollocks that little prat has on him?" Draco fumed in exclamation, mindlessly thwarting a wayward tentacle that latched onto his shoulder.

"No, dear. I can't believe that after a four hour long row where you belittled and cursed him, insulted his girlfriend, and blew up half the house that he would chose to run away like that," she replied, biting down on her lip as she focused on cutting an elusive bud below the poisonous thorns. "After all he did deserve all of that, what with him coming forward with his year long relationship because he no longer wanted to hide it from us."

"Do not do that, Astoria!" Draco growled menacingly. "I have every right to yell at him. I have given that sucker everything, EVERYTHING, he had ever wanted or couldn't have even dreamed of wanting. When he wanted to start flying a real broom at four, I whisked him to the shop! When he wanted to join that youth Muggle football camp the summer he turned 9, I signed up as an assistant coach and actually worked with those filthy creatures! When he wanted to date that impovrished, Half-blood Hufflepuff his Fifth Year, I helped him pick her a Christmas gift! And when he decided to give up his spot as Captain and Seeker of the Qudditch team so he could focus on NEWTs and his Head Boy duties, I supported him after my initial outburst of shock! I have gone through hell to give that ungrateful demon a good life, and how does he repay me? By going after a girl in one of the few families I forbade him to associate with!"

"Yes, I am sure this is all about getting back at you," Astoria stated flatly as she plucked out the greener thorns that more willingly gave their venom than their older brothers.

"This is the one thing I have told him not to do…"

"Then why are you so surprised he's doing it?" Astoria demanded, ripping her eyes away from her project for the first time during her husband's outburst. "He's our son, after all. What more could you expect?"

"A little gratitude towards the people who did their best by him!"

"Draco, what were you doing the summer after you finished Hogwarts?" she demanded, her hands placed on her still formidable hips. "Beginning your year of house arrest, I believe? Soon to be followed by a year of you running away from your father and into dirty pubs and dirtier women? And I? I was bidding my time before I decided to run away from home, sneaking cigarettes and shagging every decent looking delivery man on my mother's drawing room couch knowing she'd catch me."

"You did what?" Draco exclaimed, this particular tidbit of information having eluded previous conversation during the past twenty years of their marriage.

"My point, Draco," Astoria pressed, craning out her thin neck as his bulged. "Is that Scorpius is a better son than either of us deserve. He is a good, incredibly smart young man. Once more he is eighteen and doesn't _**need**_ our blessing to do what he wants. We both know he'll make it on his own if he wants to try, and I expect no less from her either. Besides, don't you think you are being hypocritical by…"

"NO!" Draco shouted, her last sentence igniting his stubborn indignation after it had begun to wane due to his wife's rational. "This is completely different. My parents didn't want me to be with you because you distantly had a relation who was a Muggle. I forbid Scorpius to be with her…"

"Because she has relations you don't approve of?" she finished, her thick black eyebrow curving over her still curt eyes; eyes that still cut to the source despite the tiny spatter of crow's feet.

Draco stared stoically into his wife's face. Her skin was not as firm as it once was, and her inky black hair was starting to turn light; a silent precursor to a future gray that would be smothered with black dye the moment it spoke up. Her body was no longer the taut form of a twenty year old, yet despite childbirth and a little mileage she was still slim and agile looking. Her eyes however had always remained the same in spite of time. The green orbs still glowed fiercely like a wild cat, full of brisk intelligence, yet when one knew how to look they could find an off form of nurture and humor in them to. The way she looked at him at the moment brought to mind the eighteen year old girl who stood in front of him after climbing out a window in high heels, wondering why he was so shocked at her sudden appearance when any one should _**know**_ she wanted her cigarettes she had hidden in the planter. Only now she did not look at him requesting he get her cigs (she finally kicked the habit once and for all when she realized she was pregnant with Scorpius), but the message was still the same. She expected him to do something he thought was absolutely mental.

And he would tell her such. He would put his foot down. He hadn't suffered through twenty plus years with this woman without learning how to win a few arguments. As for his son…well, Draco was the head of the household, the man in charge, and no child of his would go against his demands. He would be minded! He would be obeyed! He would…

Draco was suddenly torn from his thoughts as he felt a tug on his trouser pants.

"I take it by your prolonged silence that you're done fighting?" a high yet raspy voice demanded.

"Cassie, Sweet Pea, Mummy and Daddy are not fighting. And no we're not done," he finished with twinge of statement, trying his best to keep his smile as he looked down into the grey eyes of his daughter.

"Whatever, you stopped shouting," she replied with a shrug up into her thick dark hair as she handed him a note.

"What is this, Pea?" he asked, opening up the crisply folded noted.

"Your bill," she stated clearly. "With in the past four hours you have used the "F" word 34 times, the "poopy" word 22 times, a phrase for "rear end" 16 times, the terms for a child born out of wedlock and a girl puppy for a combined total of 12, I don't know of a nice way to say ballocks but you said it 4 times…and am I allowed to say prat or sucker yet?"

Cassie shifted out her hip, directing the last of her accounts over to her mother.

"Not until your seven," Astoria answered, in no way suppressing the amused glee from her smile.

"Well that's two more then for a grand total of 90 bad words of different levels of badness shouted across the house. According to the house rules made after I called the baby sitter a "c" sucking, mother "loving" unpleasant lady and the going rates for each word you owe 38 Galleons, 16 Sickles and 3 Knuts to the bad word jar."

Cassie then shoved the half full jar into Draco's arms and smirked victoriously.

"Cassie…this is really not a good time…"

"Do recall that there is a 5% going interest rate per day on all fines not fully…"

"Fine, okay! Take all of it," Draco spat in exasperation, emptying the gold out of his pockets and into the jar. "As far as this day is going I'm sure it will all end up there anyways."

"I see," Cassie stated, staring at the jar intently. She then perked up her head, tilting her small lips into a concerned frown as she stared up at her father with pitifully big eyes.

"What's wrong? Is Scorpius okay? What did he do to upset you, Daddy?" she asked sweetly, grabbing Draco's limp hand.

"Cassiopeia Narcissa, I don't recall us asking for your help," Astoria stated sternly, the amusement dropping from her tone. Cassie winced. Though she had her father and older brother masterfully wrapped around her finger, she knew better than to disobey her mother past a certain point. Mum was best used as an ally, plus she was the only one in the house who could brush the tangles out of her hair without it being painful. She also controlled dessert.

"I think I'll go color in my room," she stated nonchalantly, giving her father a genuine hug before rushing off with plans to be able to afford a unicorn after her father discovered that his collection of "gentlemen's magazines" had found their way under Scorpius' bed.

"You're the one who wanted children," Astoria reminded with a grin, watching with a sadistic pride as her daughter left the room. Though she remained in good humor, her smile did fade as she turned to her husband, seated slumped at the table, his head buried in his arms pitifully. Astoria cast a silent charm over her plant, freezing it as one of the vines whipped back to deliver a fatal blow across her husband's neck, before she sat down to join him.

"I can't be okay with this," he finally stated, pulling himself out of his arms. "I know I am being unfair and a hypocrite but I just can't accept him being with… with a…"

"Draco, do you remember the night Scorpius was born?" she asked, stroking his thinning hair with an amused smile.

"Of course," he muttered. "It still hurts to breath when it starts to get cold from where you punched me in the chest during your 26th hour of labor."

"I know it was a rough night for you, but try to remember the end product," she reminded snidely.

Pregnancy had been hard on Astoria. After her miscarriage she had been fearful that she may not be able to have children. Draco had been wonderful at placating her fears, asking when she had ever let a simple thing like her biology ever stop her from doing what she wanted. It had been a sweet sentiment, one which got her to relent her prohibition long enough to get knocked up. Though she had allowed her heart to change in the matter, the rest of her body still lead a violent protest against the invasion.

Her morning sickness never faded, her body ached and cramped, and at the end she was placed on bed rest. The labor had taken ages and was excruciating. The worst part of the whole ordeal, however, was right after she had given birth and the Healer showed them their son for the first time. She had expected to feel overwhelmed with love and adoration for the new creature, just like all of her resources and female acquaintances had told her would happen. It was only natural for a mother to feel that way towards her offspring. But all Astoria saw was a wriggling, slimy looking thing whose cries could bring Mandrakes to shame. The tears that fell after seeing her son for the first time were not those of love but of panic. She had gone through all this trouble and now she was as certain as ever that she didn't want children.

But then he was placed in her arms, cleaned up and seemingly subdued by her familiar warmth. She looked down at the squishy baby face and could instantly see the liking to the infant photos of her husband. His blonde hair and blue eyes screamed the classic Malfoy features, and she knew Draco would be beside himself with glee. But as she searched his face she was hit by something else. Though like all newborns his eyes were blue, Astoria was instantly able to tell they would never shade into the Malfoy grey. Swirls of green could be detected, making her guess they would settle into a breathtaking aqua. And though she never shared this with anyone else she felt certain his face would not construct into the pointed form of his father's, but would have strong and proud features like her.

"He's amazing," Draco gasped, stroking his boy's tiny face with a smile.

"No," she argued firmly, holding back her own sob. "He's perfect."

Motherly instinct and affection may have come a few minutes late, but they hit Astoria hard.

"What about it?" Draco grumbled, clearly having completed his own flashback on the memory.

"You remember what we talked about the first night we all came home, wrapped up in that old green blanket as we watched him sleeping?" she asked with a smile.

"About how we'd raise him," he replied, grabbing her hand without thought.

"We agreed that for our families' prosperity we would raise him as a Pureblood, and continue to do so while our fathers were alive," she reminded patiently. "But we also said that when he was old enough to understand we would tell him the truth, and up till that day we would raise him to think Blood status wasn't what mattered, it was all about your family. And when we explained all of this before he left for school that first year, what did we promise him?"

"We…we told him that it was his life, his secret. And when his grandfathers passed he could chose to do what he wanted with that secret…but my father is still alive, what does this have to do with anything?" Draco asked angrily, pushing himself away from the table to pace.

"It has everything to do with it," Astoria explained patiently. "The reason we did it that way was so he could know the truth and not be ashamed of who is parents were. It was the way to ensure he wasn't punished for our mistakes, so he could live his own life and be happy. That's what we want for him, isn't it?"

"That's a trick question," Draco shouted back, speeding up his frantic paces. "All I want to do is wring his cocky little neck and lock him in his room until he forty…nine. Forty-nine."

"A perfectly rational reaction to have," she agreed. "But really, he's only doing what we taught him to do. Seeing past our old prejudices, making a name for himself in a world that started off against him. Really, he couldn't have done a better job than winning the love of Rose Wea…"

"DO NOT SAY THAT NAME!" Draco shouted, quickly accentuated by the top of the teakettle blowing off and lodging itself into the ceiling. Astoria eyed it curiously before returning her gaze to her deflating husband. Draco sighed and plopped back down at the kitchen table, staring at the grains in the wood intently.

"What would you have me do?" he spat, folding his arms across his chest and throwing himself back in his seat.

"I think you know what we have to do. That is, what we have to do to keep our son. Because he is _**our**_ son, and I have no doubt that he will stubbornly chose his way over ours just like we did to our parents," she stated, holding back an edge of triumph as she successfully milked the precious venom that held the key for her new line of skin firming creams. These crow's feet really had to go…

"Out of the question," he snapped, once again leaping away from the table as though it would drag him down that road if he stayed. "There is absolutely no fucking way I am going over there! That wretched prat will have to come home eventually! And when he does, oh is he going to get it! I'll start by destroying all his favorite things and locking him in his room! And then…"

The rest of Draco's empty threats became more muttered as he quickly marched back down the hallway to the foyer, as though he expected his son to have come to his senses and return. Astoria simply shook her head, putting aside her vials of venom and the blossoms for replanting as she cleared up the kitchen. Draco would shout himself out soon, and by the time he did she needed to be ready.

* * *

Astoria heard the soft sound of scampering and the raspy call of a quickly pulled back chair as she walked down the hall. Cocking an eyebrow, she marched casually over to her daughter's room and opened the door. Cassie's thick black hair swayed as she hunched diligently over her desk, a circus of runaway crayons littering her floor.

"You look awfully busy," Astoria stated as she leaned against the door frame, her brow still curved as she watched her daughter turn as though just sensing her mother's presence.

"Is everything alright with Dad and Scorp?" Cassie asked, a bit too quickly for Astoria's liking. The mother scanned the room, noting its usual disarray while using her instincts to search out something suspicious. And then she spotted it. Artemis, the green and extremely revered stuffed kneazle haphazardly smashed flat against the floor and the wall. Without another word Astoria gently picked up her daughter's favorite toy, along with the piece of paraphernalia it was instructed to guard.

"Seems to me as though you know as much as I do," Astoria replied with a grin, dangling the Extendable Ear out in front of her.

"How do you always do that?" Cassie groused, a mix of annoyance and reverence in her tone as she gave up the pretense of coloring.

"Because I'm your mother. I'll always know," she lied quickly, stuffing the Ear in her pocket. "Now, your father and I will be leaving the house for a while to go after your brother, so we need to find someone to watch you. Which of the babysitters have you not scared off?"

"I don't need anyone to watch me," Cassie replied, placing Artemis lightly on the bed to attend to her living counterpart. Bugger leapt gracefully up on to the bed, curling right into Cassie's lap.

"Cassiopeia, you're six years old and prone to mischief. I'm not going to come home to find all the neighbor kids in here doing your bidding because you "won" them in a game of Gobblestones. Not again, anyways." This Astoria couldn't help but smiling as she said.

"But I didn't do anything wrong, and all the babysitters you hire are so stupid and easy," Cassie whined.

"Okay, then how about we have you stay with a relative?" Astoria bargained with a grin. "I'm sure Daphne and Greg would love to have you! And you can play with your cousins."

"Yuck! Vincenttia and Gregoria are so…fat, ugly, smelly…pinchy!"

"I'll call up your Aunt Pansy and Uncle Blaise and set up a play date with Amaryllis. She can regale you with school tales and give you a makeover till your ears fall off."

"No you won't," Cassie replied back with folded arms, "cause then you'd actually have to talk to them. Send me over to Uncle Theo's and Aunt Cheri's!"

"Out of town," Astoria dismissed quickly. "I know! How about a nice, weekend visit to grandma's!"

"Which grandma?" Cassie asked cautiously, unsure of which answer she preferred.

"It has been an awfully long time since we visited my mother. And I bet she'd be thrilled…"

"Again! You'd actually have to talk to her to get me over there!" Cassie pointed out, but her gusto weakened from having to repeat an argument point.

"On the contrary! My mother has become much more pleasant to me since you've gotten older and have worked hard to prove your independence. Now that she knows your hell bent on make your own decisions she's started to lay off on me and criticize you directly," Astoria explained with a smile, forgoing the extra information that now her mother simply told her that she was getting what she deserved having to be the mother of a child so similar to herself.

"Fine! I'll be good for a stupid babysitter," Cassie scowled, tossing Bug to the side so she could roll on her stomach. She paused for a moment, reflecting on her father's distant ranting and the hours of fighting that had taken place earlier between him and her brother.

"Mum?" Cassie asked, attitude dropped for a tone of sincerity. "Is everything going to be okay? I've never heard them fight like that and Scorpius has never stormed off. He is coming back, right?"

"Of course he'll be back, Sweet Pea," Astoria assured, sitting next to her daughter and stroking her hair. "Scorpius loves us, he doesn't want to leave. But he's gone and made life complicated for your father."

"Why doesn't Daddy like the girl he likes?" she asked, placing her head in her mother's lap.

"Because your father and the girl's parents have a long and bad history," she explained. "Our family and her family have been fighting for generations. But this kind of thing happens. Him falling for her is actually unimpressively cliché. But if we don't handle this delicately things can go sour. Muggle literature is filled with stories of star-crossed lovers from dueling families, and someone usually ends up dying in those…"

"Scorpius is going to die!" Cassie panicked, sitting up quickly in dread.

"No. That was a poor example," Astoria grimaced. It was easy to forget sometimes that Cassie was as young as she was, and some concepts like romantic love and family feuds were still out of her reach. Astoria shook her head to regroup.

"I'll put it to you this way. Your father and your brother are both stubborn arses. Your father has his reasons to be upset, and though Scorpius is in the right he should have known better than to handle the situation the way he did. If left to their own devises they will botch it all up, that's why Mummy has to go fix everything."

"Oh, okay," Cassie replied, no doubt in her mind that her mother could do just that. "But how are you going to get Dad to agree?"

"I'm not going to wait around any longer!" Draco shouted from the doorway, Astoria's cloak in his hand.

Astoria smiled smugly at her daughter.

"Just let me call the sitter."

**(A/N: So starts the beginning of the end! Only about one or two chapters left to go. I do however have a Rose/Scorpius fic planned that I really want to write, though I am struggling with myself wondering if I have the energy to write another lengthy story. I'm actually doing research to write my own novel like I have always wanted to. Writing fanfics has not only been a beloved hobby of mine, but practice for eventually writing and maybe publishing my own stuff. After nearly four years of writing on this site and having graduated college, I feel like I am ready for such a task. That being said, I'd hate to have planned and crafted my Rose/Scorpius story and not actually write it. I also don't want to leave my Percy/Audrey story unfinished either. So I guess I'll just have to see how I feel when this story is done. Anyhoo, we at least get some good Rose/Scorp action in the next chapter!)**


	33. Epilogue: Death In The Family, Part Two

Epilogue: Death in the Family

Strange how one inevitably reacts like ones father when they become one themselves, despite swearing they would never treat their child in such a way. Stranger still how one generation will take what their father unintentionally did to make them miserable and consciously put their own child in the same situation, knowing just what it would do to them.

Who knew family punishment was an evolving organism?

"Do I really have to do this?" Scorpius called out from across the field, his uneasy whine discernible even from a distance.

"Absolutely," Draco replied, not bothering to rise from his resting spot or even watch his son complete his task. Scorpius would do what he was told, despite how eerie it was.

"This is bloody morbid and creepy and just wrong…"

His son's ranting died off as the wind carried it elsewhere, leaving the clearing deathly silent despite an otherwise cheery summer day. But deathly silent was exactly how a cemetery should sound. Especially a family cemetery on the day where he was forcing his only son to pick out where his burial plot would be. It was a Malfoy tradition going back centuries, and while Draco had once felt like sparing his son this particularly morbid custom, he now suddenly felt it prudent that his son take part in the practice. Somehow Scorpius had got it into his thick head that, not only was he allowed to fancy and date that Granger-Weasley hybrid, but that his father needed to accept it. For some reason his wife and daughter also demanded that he let Scorpius do such an absurd thing.

His family was against him, suddenly turning his son's wrong doings onto him, like it was his problem. This lead to the issue of conceding or seceding. He would not be run out of his own family, not when he was in charge. So he reluctantly agreed to tolerate _that girl_ if she made his son happy.

He, however, would make his son remember just who he and his family were by any dramatic means possible. And if this happened to make him miserable in the process, then so be it.

"Who was Netherwood Malfoy?" Scorpius demanded. "I thought I had a rough name."

"You're great-great-great ect. grandfather," Draco replied lazily. "Best known for spreading a curse that wiped out a third of the Muggles on the continent in the 14th century. I believe they chalk it up to rats or some rubbish like that."

"Lovely," Scorpius spat as he continued his quest. Draco smirked, leaning closer against his own headstone. He had been eight when his parents had brought him out here and had him pick out his spot where his corpse would lay for all eternity. He had had nightmares for weeks. He came out there again when he was ten to watch his father bury his miscarried sibling. He had taken to laying against this very spot during the Dark Lord's stay at his house, strangely finding it the only sanctuary on the grounds. And it was here that he had taken the soiled carpet from Spinner's End to burn when Astoria finally told him the whole story of her own miscarriage.

This land was a bitter part of him, much like his Dark Mark had once been. However despite all the negative that spurned from here it was still an important reminder of what it meant to be a Malfoy. Past and future generations of Malfoys would all be lain to rest here, connecting them all in death despite the differences they shared in life.

Draco was pulled from his thoughts by his son casually walking beside him, escaping the summer heat by stepping into the shade of the large tree that settled near them. It was the shade of the tree that had drawn Draco to this spot decades ago. Scorpius let out a sigh and lay down on his back a few feet from his father, his eyes staring up into the sky.

"Here, then," Scorpius stated, folding his arms across his chest.

"Marvelous," Draco replied. He then slid down, so he too lay upon the grass with his eyes glued to the clouds that passed by them. The deathly silence continued for what seemed an eternity, neither son nor father breeching the quiet as they sat in their own deep thoughts.

"What made you chose Mum?" Scorpius finally asked, not bothering to turn to face him. "What made you chose her even though she wasn't a Pureblood?"

"The hell if I know. That decision seems to have given me nothing but problems," Draco muttered. Scorpius finally turned to his father, a look of irritation so similar to Astoria's he could not help but smile.

"Then again, I suppose I had my reasons," Draco mused. "She kept life interesting, hacked off my father, made me laugh…not intentionally, of course…and still to this day maintains a great ass…"

"That's disgusting," Scorpius moaned, his face squished into a look of horror.

"And I guess…I guess there were just things in life that didn't seem worth it if she wasn't around." Draco finished, smiling to himself as he recalled any number of memories he had shared with his wife throughout the years.

Scorpius too smiled, apparently having tapped into the part of his father he had been searching for.

"And how about you?" Draco finally asked, turning to face Scorpius. "What made you chose her?"

"She's a know-it-all pain in my ass," Scorpius replied. "But she's smart as hell, and can get me talking…she saved my life. She also has the most amazing hips…and it doesn't hurt that she pisses you off so much."

Draco couldn't help but laugh at his son's reply, and he shook his head against the grass in irony.

"Dad?" Scorpius called out a few seconds later.

"Hmm?" Draco replied, still musing happily.

"Are we going to be okay?" he asked nervously. Draco turned his head over to look at the earnestness on his son's face.

"Oh, of course we're okay," Draco spat. "I'm your father. That means I'm supposed to put you through hell when you did the same things I did."

"Just like it's my job as a son to piss you off?" Scorpius suggested.

"Exactly," Draco replied.

"Well thank you," Scorpius stated. "For eventually understanding, and talking to the Weasleys as well. What exactly did you say to them?"

"I just made it look like I was okay with the whole thing so they looked like the shite parents," Draco shrugged. "It was easy."

"Somehow I doubt that," Scorpius laughed.

"Anyways, I'm sure their opinion of me has changed now that they know I married a Half- Blood," Draco continued with a sigh.

"How would they know that?" Scorpius asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Because…you told Rose your secret didn't you? That's why she agreed to date you?" Draco speculated.

"I got Rose to date me because I'm spectacular," Scorpius answered with a smirk. "But I never told her about any of that."

"Why not?" Draco asked in surprise.

"Because it's none of her business," Scorpius replied. "Not now anyways. There are certain things in my life that are just within the family. That has always driven her mad, and I don't expect her to understand seeing as she has the family she does, but it doesn't mean I'm going to blab all of our secrets. Besides, telling her and her family I'm not really a Pureblood seems like an easy out. I'd rather her want to be with me in spite of me. Plus I figured you'd love how crazy it is making her parents as now they have to eat their own words on 'tolerance'."

Draco picked up his head and stared incredulously at his son. Scorpius simply continued to stare upward, his Malfoy smirk visible despite his angle.

"That's my boy," Draco stated, his own smile filling his face as pride and love engulfed him.

"Are you two done with this madness?"

Both of the Malfoy men shot up as they heard Astoria's call. They watched as she approached them, causally followed by a sauntering Cassie. As a like in looks as were father and son, the mother and daughter looked down upon them with the same blend of haughty amusement.

"Just about," Draco proclaimed, hopping to his feet.

"What? What else do we have to do?" Scorpius inquired as he started to rise.

"Back down you go," the father insisted, pushing Scorpius back down. "We have to mark your resting place."

"You've got to be joking?" Scorpius muttered as his parents stood on either side of him. Draco gave his son a firm look before holding out his wand. It took Astoria a few moments to respond in kind. She thoroughly disagreed with her husband's method and the Malfoy penchant for picking out their graves. But as she noticed Scorpius' willingness to lie down and embrace the tradition and knowing her husband needed a win, she reluctantly raised her wand and pointed it at her husband's.

Twin jets instantly shot out, mating in midair. The electric blue streams cracked and jolted like lighting until suddenly a block of stone appeared and settled behind Scorpius' head. The stone was long and elaborately engraved. The Malfoy family crest was prominently placed in the center. An etching soon appeared on the right side; the script in cursive and quite clear:

Scorpius Hyperion Malfoy  
October 23, 2005 -  
Beloved Son  
_Sanctimonia Vincet Semper_

"Great, can we go now? This is giving me the creeps," Scorpius said quickly, taking a glance at the grave before jumping to his feet.

"My sweet little Starsweeper," Astoria sighed, stroking her son's cheek affectionately. "To think it wasn't that long ago I was cradling you in my arms and rocking you to sleep. And now you're all grown up with your own grave, sneaking into your girlfriend's room for a shag…"

"We were not shagging!" Scorpius proclaimed in exasperation, still miffed at having been caught being in Rose's room when his parents came to call on the Weasleys. "Why would you even say that?"

"Because, darling, your father's hair sticks up the same way when I'm done with him," she replied simply.

"Oh my God!" Scorpius spat, shaking his head in disgust as he heard his father laugh in the background. "You're both mental, you know that? You shouldn't have even been allowed to have children, let alone raise them!"

"I'm hungry. This place is stupid," Cassie added, stepping in and crossing her arms.

"You're just saying that because you're not allowed in," Scorpius shot back. "Unless you decide to be a bitter old spinster."

"I'd rather be a bitter spinster than a prat who makes a fuss over some girl and then has to make up for it by digging his own grave!" she shot back, sticking her tongue out for good measure.

"Malfoys don't dig," he retorted. "And if you don't stop being a brat I won't play tea party with you later."

"You have to play with me, Mum said so," Cassie reminded snidely.

"Yeah, but I don't have to do it with an accent and call myself Lady Arabella, do I?" he fought back. His face then quickly fell back into a look of disgust as he realized his last line of argument didn't quite make the point he was going for.

"Lady Arabella," Cassie sniggered, as though she too were amazed at the depth of humiliation she was able to put her brother through.

"I've had it with this day," Scorpius spat, shaking his head. "Come on, you little usurper of my inheritance, lets ditch this place and those Imperiusing prats we call parents."

With one swift movement Scorpius scooped up his little sister and tossed her over his shoulder, marching them determinedly up the hill and out of sight of the Malfoy family plot. Cassie's screams and giggles could be heard as they continued to bicker as he walked.

Draco watched his children briefly, smiling sadly at their antics before returning back to his own headstone. He stared at it silently, taking in the old view with the new neighboring feature.

"So this is where we're going to go when we kick the proverbial bucket, eh?" Astoria inquired, never having actually seen the place.

"Right," Draco responded quietly, his hands buried deep in his pockets as his thoughts drifted. Astoria cocked her eyebrow at him. Without a word she walked by him and took a closer look at the headstone.

"So my name really was engraved here on our wedding day?" she asked, her fingers tracing the curves and loops of her personal nomenclature.

"The moment the ceremony was complete," he answered dryly.

"How romantic. No wonder I felt a little piece of me die that day." Astoria smirked at her husband, awaiting his own feisty quip. When he remained silent she simply rolled her eyes and continued with her inspection. Her heeled foot brushed aside a few wayward leaves that had settled on her side before unceremoniously plopping down in front of it.

"My side seems a bit uneven," she remarked candidly, eyeing an encroaching root from the large tree that seemed destined to settle over her in a century or so.

"I'm sorry," he spat, "but I was eight years old when I picked this spot. My last concern was the comfort of the unknown pain in the ass that I would inexplicably marry."

"Now there is the man I fell in love with," she sighed in relief. "You know I hate it when you get all broody and quiet. We both know you're going to complain about it to me regardless, so off with it now."

She accentuated her words by patting the hallowed ground next to her. Draco snorted in response, yet still he complied and settled next to her as though Summoned.

"I dunno. I guess I'm starting to rethink this whole parenthood bit," he grumbled, pulling up the grass by his legs and examining it thoroughly.

"It's a tad late for that, don't you think?" she inquired with a grin. "The big one's almost done cooking."

"That's what I mean though," he exclaimed. "It's just…I still can't help but feel hurt and betrayed by all of this. I just can't help but wonder if I had just gone and raised him to be a self-hating Pureblood enthused maniac none of this would be an issue."

"I'm sure had we only done that the world would be a perfect place," she patronized, nudging him playfully in the arm.

"I'm serious!" he pressed. "I don't know how I'm supposed to get over this."

"Draco," she cooed, scooting closer to him as she directed his gaze back out to their children. "Look at Scorpius. He's healthy, happy, on the right track to do amazing things with his life. And, most importantly, he's here with us. Not because he has to be but because he chooses to. Could either of us say that at his age?"

"But…"

"As for you getting over it I don't know if you ever fully will. You think your parents are ever going to be happy you married me, despite the pretense of Purity and their two amazing grandchildren? You think my mother will ever get over me running off and starting my own company despite how much money it's made for the family?" she added.

"What, so I'm just supposed to pretend like I'm okay with all of this until I'm dead?" he demanded, looking down fiercely at his wife. Astoria looked back at him, the pools of her eyes wavering as she took a moment to respond.

"I don't want to lose him again," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly as she held back tears. "Not again. Not while we have him back."

Draco felt a little piece of his heart break as Astoria struggled to maintain her emotions. He knew right then that she was right. He had had more than enough experience both as a father and a son to know that when it came down to it your family was what was most important. He had spent his son's life trying to create a world where he could be accepted. He had no business denying Scorpius when he finally was.

"Okay," he replied simply, wrapping his arm around his wife and pulling her near. Astoria nodded before putting her head on his shoulder. They watched their children play in harmony for awhile, laughing as Scorpius dramatically tripped backwards in defeat after Cassie vanquished him with her toy wand.

As Draco leaned back against the headstone he couldn't help but think that despite the serious missteps he had taken in his life, he could not imagine a better existence then the one he somehow managed to eek out.

"Are you happy, Azzy?" Draco asked as his lips brushed against her ear.

"I haven't divorced you, have I?" she responded playfully.

"Only because it would be too much of a hassle though, right?" he inquired.

"It would be a dreadful mess. And I wouldn't want to be alone with the children that often."

Draco chuckled, tossing his head back against the cool stone. Astoria joined him, and soon they were engulfed in a round of laughter neither of them could quite explain. It only stopped when Draco exhaled in exasperation, this time banging his head back hard.

"I'll let the spoiled brat do whatever he wants with the girl, but I'll be damned if I'm going to spend eternity lying ten feet from a Weasley," he spat, looking over at the blank spot next to his son's name insidiously.

"Darling, I'm quite certain you've been damned from the get go," she responded, finally hoping to her feet.

"At least we'll have a king sized bed reserved for us in hell," he added, joining her side and squeezing her hand. They watched their children continue to play as the sun went down, waving back at them as Cassie beckoned them to come so they could grab dinner.

"I love you, Azzy," he declared from behind her as they made their way to their son and daughter.

"And I love you," she replied dreamily. "But Draco…."

"Yes, darling?" he inquired happily."

"I told you not to call me Azzy."

It took Draco a moment to piece together why all of a sudden he was on the ground, his shoes steaming as though they had been blasted out from under him. All he could see was his wife swaggering away from him like the bitch she was, joining up with his ungrateful children as they howled in laughter.

"I'm already in hell," he spat, clearing his robes as he quickly thought up his retaliation as his family started to walk away from him.

But even as the anger welled inside of him as a thousand different ways to punish his family swelled in his head, he couldn't help but appreciate the way his wife's hips moved as she walked.

Suddenly all thoughts of his children banished and he focused solely on what he would do to Astoria when he got her home.

The End

_(A/N: Ah another long story comes to an end! I cannot believe it is finally over after two years of planning and updating. Now I know many of you were hoping for a Weasley confrontation, and some of you said you thought the story ended best two chapters ago at the engagement party. Well there is a method to my madness. I have decided to write my Rose/Scorpius story after all, and these two chapters sort of set the stage for it. However I already messed up a bit on the timeline so forgive me for that._

_The story is called "Truth Will Out". It follows how Scorpius befriended the Weasleys and the Potters in school, and the ways (both good and bad) that he handled being the son of Draco Malfoy. It is told through the memories of Rose, Hugo, Albus, Lily, James, Lucy and other in a Pensive in an attempt to show their parents why Scorpius should be allowed to date Rose. Now while I'm not going to play up Scorpius not being a Pureblood in that story, it is a continuation of sorts of this story. Draco and Astoria have the same relationship and make their own appearances, and Scorpius' mindset is shaped by this environment. A few things may change here and there as it is not a complete sequel, but hopefully if you liked this story you will be happy with my latest. I already posted the first two chapters so I invite you to join me on my next line of HP adventure._

_Regardless of if you do or not, I would just like to thank each and every one of you for reading my story. I love writing fanfiction and even though life gets in the way of regular updates (stupid full-time job, friends and boyfriend like to get in the way) I am so glad you stuck by me for so long! _

_I hope to see all of you soon._

_Love,_

_JustAudrey07 )_


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